The barren trees pronounce the wintry season.
This is my favorite time of year . . . when it’s cooler.
The sun’s rays aren’t too kind to those of us who belong to the redheaded clan. Avoiding direct sunlight is difficult, though, when you live in the golden state of California.
When we took our family to Disneyland, the security guy at the entrance gate pointed to the large umbrella in my hand and asked, “Are we expecting rain?”
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. And I detected just a hint of either sarcasm or confusion in his tone.
So I replied, “No, we’re expecting sun.”
It’s a lifestyle. Keeping covered.
You won’t ever find me lying bikini-bare on a beach anywhere. For purely practical reasons you see.
I don’t do bare.
My fair skin won’t allow it.
My dermatologist won’t allow it either. And frankly, I’m tired of the skin cancer treatments. So I gladly oblige my doctor and shun any activity in the sun.
But this has also led me to become a hermit of sorts. I prefer the indoors. And I’ve developed a slight fear of sunlight. Because it really could kill me. My biopsies have told me so.
Yet, for all my efforts with hats and scarves and umbrellas — even during the summer — most of the real damage was done when I was young.
And there isn’t anything I can do about that.
So with each new day, I lay all my bare fears at the feet of Him who is the Way, the Truth, and . . . the Light.
Only the Light can protect me from the light.
Is there something you need to lay bare at His feet?
Linking today with LisaJo, taking five minutes to write about “bare.”