I have loved this spring. I can not remember loving a spring as much as this one. It is not that we have taken a vacation to a distant land. Such travels may be over for us. We have not moved to a new house, nor have I become a better housekeeper. We have not gotten an adorable new puppy. In fact, at the age of fifteen plus years, Ms. Cleo is having some difficulties. It is not that suddenly our financial situation has brightened. In fact, we are living on less. I have not learned the secret of growing a church of ten into a church of a thousand. It is not that the drought is over. It is not that our communities, our nation, our world have become less violent and abuse is no more. In some cases, quite the opposite is true. I have not set a personal best for my running. Well, maybe I have but I really don't pay much attention. I have definitely not lost those last ten pounds. I have not gone vegan, and probably never will. I reluctantly gave up my CSA subscription, which I do miss, but I am loving re-connecting with our local farmers' market on Wednesday evenings. We are enjoying some incredibly beautiful and delicious Mt. Rainier cherries, and have feasted on some deep red, sweet strawberries. To come in from a run and taste a sweet peach is a gift that cannot be described. Tyler and I just shared the first fig off the tree that hangs over our fence. Delicious.
The love of this season reflects this particular time of my life. No, I certainly am not in the springtime of my existence. There are more years in my past than in my future (at least in this body), and some of those past years were not exactly stellar. However, at some point this spring, I took my phone out of my pocket and took a picture of a flower. And then another. And another. And then one evening Tyler asked a simple question, "Have your tried the crop feature?" and demonstrated the effect. I was stunned. I saw God's universe open up for me in a way that it never had. At that moment, flowers became more than flowers. They became light, texture, and dance. Now, running with Jack has become a biathlon event. Our neighborhood is filled with gardens, and for some reason it has taken me over two decades to really start paying attention. Jack would like me to pay a little less attention so we can move on up the road, but he is generally a good sport. Ms. Cleo, on the other hand, appreciates the frequent pauses, but we do not go very far. I may have to start driving her a few streets down before we begin her ten minute saunter.
I do not know what impact this drought will have, but I know that this spring I have savored abundant life. I have been gently reminded of the importance of learning to appreciate the life before me. It is grace that can only be received. I cannot create it or earn it. I weep as I write this. I do not know why.
I leave you with three gifts. One is a beautiful poem that a friend of mine recently sent me. All of us will go back to sleep sooner or later, so let us really be awake in this time of our lives. I have attached a picture of an iris from early this spring, and for those of you who, like me, did not grow up in a farming community, I have attached an un-cropped phototgraph of some corn silks. I never knew they were so exuberantly beautiful.
As are all of you. Please savor today. It is yours. Tomorrow? We do not yet know. Best stick with today for now.
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