Cloudy, with Sunbreaks

Photo by Evgenia Stergioula on Unsplash

When we moved to the Pacific Northwest almost 25 years ago, we laughed at the weather forecasts. It was winter, and the temperature hovered between 45-48 degrees F. daily—our son asked why they bothered with thermometers. It was dark, cloudy, and often rainy. The meteorologists however, found ways to embellish their reports. We heard there would be some sunbreaks, possibly a shower, perhaps some scattered rainfall, and a chance of clearing in the midafternoon. We counted how many ways they could describe rain.

I’ve come to love the PNW and its dramatically different seasonal weather. I don’t mind the winter rain after long dry summers. And I don’t own an umbrella. Clouds keep us warmer in the winter, even if they do dim what little sunshine we get in the weeks locals call, “The Big Dark.”

One blessing of our short days is the spectacular sunrise and sunset vistas we experience. The ever-present clouds take on vivid orange, peach, yellow and red as the sun slings its slanted rays toward the horizon. Many times, we’ve run outside to get a better view as the colors intensify and a golden wash covers the scene.

Clouds though, are not what we often hope the weather will bring. This is especially true of the gray heavy set, the kind you can’t imagine as a ballerina or a dinosaur. No fluff and quite dull, if not somber.

We speak of such clouds as metaphors in our circumstances. Someone’s thinking is clouded, another has brain fog, his mood is overcast, the way forward is dark and unclear. Beyond imagery, the grey cloudy season is blamed for a biological depression—seasonal affective disorder. Sunny days make us happy while cloudy ones makes us sad, it seems.

I do love a bright sunny day. But currently, the time I’m living in is full of those somber heavy clouds. It’s the season of the year and of my circumstances. Clarity is hard to find. The future is unpredictable (isn’t it always?)—the present day is as far as the eye can see.

We are encouraged to live in the moment, but what do we do when the moment is inscrutable? Perhaps that’s where we find trust, hope and even love. The bright days are self-sufficient ones. We skip, dance and feel free. The heavy ones can close in us and seem wasted. If we can’t escape them then we need a way to transform them.

Maybe the clouds hold the key to our well-being in these lonelier difficult times. While God, or Spirit, is often referred to as light, there are also striking situations where he is presented as—you guessed it—cloud. In the book of Exodus, God leads the people in a pillar of cloud by day. They need to stay close to that cloud. God descends on Mount Sinai in a thick cloud. This happens again when Jesus takes his disciples to the mountain. Throughout Scripture, clouds are seen as a sign of God’s presence, protection and guidance. The clouds are also a sign of our limited knowledge and our inability to make it on our own.

In the 14^th century book by an anonymous author, The Cloud of Unknowing, we are told we’ll never be able to think our way to God. There is a cloud of unknowing that separates us. It is love, not analysis, that penetrates the cloud. Our longing creates a possibility for experiencing what we hope for. The author says, “The universes which are amenable to the intellect can never satisfy the instincts of the heart.”

Maybe the cloudy seasons are just as promising as the sunny ones. Instead of racing along, we are more hesitant and dependent. We must sit with the discomfort, even get soaked in it. It doesn’t make sense, and we can’t power through it. But if we try to pursue the most loving way forward, possibilities for joy make their appearance. We can gradually understand ourselves as human beings instead of human doings. The clouds become shelter.

Most of us would still prefer the warm sun and blue sky to dominant our days. But surrounded by dark clouds, I’ve experienced more kindness, care and love than I’ve ever known. Friends, family and even strangers have reached out. Surely, I am in the midst of divine presence.