Yellow.

Some days I feel pumped, having eaten my bagel and drunk my tea, ready to jump out the door and find my day. The morning is crisp and clear, my paths laid out before me with crushed candy-cane pavements and lollipop blossoms, and I feel like a Norwegian Dane: sturdy but happy.

Today I woke up still unreasonably frightened to be home, dreading going anywhere yet wanting to leave so badly it hurts, wandering around the house knowing I have to do this and that and not being able to lift my arms past the cup of tea that I'm clinging to even though it's empty.

And yet it's not all that bad. I'm alive and going to do some painting during interning. We're going camping next week and the sun will smile down on me until I'm colored a rich yellow.

I am looking forward to the onslaught of yellow. It means missing some things and people, but I've begun to not miss it so much if the other way is the right way. It takes so much energy, battling for the wrong way. Even if it's right sometimes, I have to battle for it. I have no weapons. Psalms 68:13 is not for me, not yet. It grips me but I can't grip it back.

One way internship has been good for me is the steadying of my devotional time. I've begun to go after God with a will, and the result is heady. Yesterday especially: in every purple slant of the morning glories and every expelled breathe when I thought his name, a soft cocoon of eternal love and smiles enveloped me.

Perhaps the verse does apply.

Though ye have lien among the pots, yet shall ye be as the wings of a dove covered with silver, and her feathers with yellow gold.