Soul Story | Gray Morning - The Sun Returns
- Jennifer Kelley
- Apr 15
- 2 min read
Updated: Apr 27
I woke up
to a sky of gray.
Soft raindrops
falling to the earth —
steady
and quiet.
The flowers
that had once been shining,
dancing in the light,
were drawn inward now…
their petals contracted from the cold,
drooped beneath the burden of rain,
heavy
with its weight.
Today
the world felt gray.
Cold.
Still.
I went to make a cup of coffee.
Ten minutes passed.
I returned to the window,
warm mug in my hands.
I stood there drinking slowly,
looking out at the sky.
And then…
something miraculous happened.
The rain began to soften.
Not all at once —
just enough for
me to notice.
A small break appeared in the clouds.
A thin ribbon of sunlight
slipped through,
spilling into the garden.
I looked up
and saw the light shimmering behind the gray —
the clouds parting,
thinning,
drifting away.
And then the sun —
a radiant ball of light —
began to take its place in the sky,
burning away what had seemed so heavy
only moments before.
Below me,
the flowers began to respond.
Petal by petal,
they opened.
They lifted themselves from the weight.
They stretched wide,
standing taller,
reaching outwardas if embracing
the warmth that had returned.
Their petals
no longer burdened.
I could feel
everything
singing in the light.
As if the garden
had simply been resting.
Waiting in the dark.
And now
the light was here again.
And I felt it too.
This beautiful ball of light —
steady,
unwavering —
filled the space around me
and within me.
I remembered then:
It is always there.
Even when I cannot see it.
It is always there.
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