It may be snowing and sleeting outside, but I'm feeling the sap rise and the turning of the planet toward new light, new possibilities, a new growing season followed by reaping and harvesting whatever rewards God gives me.Rather than sleep away half of the day, I find myself rising in the night and slipping outdoors to look at the night sky, strewn with stars that wink at me in a silent conspiracy. And when there's frost on the ground, it looks as if some of those same stars have fallen like diamonds from heaven, right at my feet. It's like a promise of eternity that warms my soul until I no longer feel the cold.
Isn't it a miracle that we mortals share the same instincts and hope as other creatures and plants? The buds are slowly swelling on my pear trees and forsythia, and the daffodils are emerging under their blankets of dead leaves. It's an annual promise of sweeter, longer days to come. And for someone who is a believer, as I am, it parallels the new life that God has prepared for us.
Lent begins next week. A time for introspection and for "giving up" or "doing more" or whatever your own heart tells you to do in preparation. You just have to be still and listen.
Can rebirth be far behind? Not while our planet continues to hurtle through the heavens. Stop. Listen. You'll hear it in the stars, the birdsong, the whisper that speaks the language of faith.
Look no further. Miracles are all around you. Open your eyes and watch along with me.
3 comments:
Oh, beautiful, Nanny. And I will be watching along with you -- you and that little groundhog.
I'll be watching and waiting also, for all the beauty you have described ! You make everything sound so serene! You are a master painter with words!
Thank you my sisters. I have the soul of a writer and poet but not the luxury of time to pursue it. And Rita, the very thing that drives my writing is to, indeed, paint a picture with words -- my stock in trade. :)
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