I had forgotten that May in Maryland is often chilly and rainy. In Texas May was most often sunny and warm – our garden was indescribably colorful. On many early sunny May mornings, even the weeds look good!
But, frankly, May makes weeds in Maryland look good, too – even in the rain!
So as a soft gray filter of morning mist stirred up memories of our previous May garden, I checked on the progress of the new garden.
All that cool rain worked wonders on the remnant of a rose bush from last fall! It was blooming its heart out with no help from me, and trying to climb up the shingles of the garage. And we have roses in our home again!
Joy blooms from such little seeds.
Perhaps this photo will become a still life? Painting water in a glass can keep me busy for hours!
Having a chore and the time and energy to do it is a gift I no longer take for granted.
Aches, pains, and fear are toxic – so, too, is loneliness, regret and grief: all frequent visitors asking for an appointment. Who knew that doing the dishes could be such an antidote?
I never thought I would be happy to do a load of wash, or empty a dishwasher. But as some things are no longer smart or safe for me to tackle, it’s good to do. And seeing a rose, or a grandchild – or a friend – is something I hope I don’t forget as a privilege.
I like Psalms because the authors got mad, scared, frustrated, depressed, or exuberant in the company of Someone they believed cared, even when they felt bereft of God’s fellowship and guidance.
Psalms is like a go-to prayer book. The prayers therein don’t help me figure things out, as they help me enter into what’s there. (after Eugene Peterson)
Given the world, social media and the Washington Post – not to mention news from family and friends, entering into what’s there, isn’t like gingerly dipping a toe into a babbling brook – “What’s There” is a morass of pain, confusion, and madness, that can overtake any shafts of lightness and hope.
The psalmist Psalm 130 steadies my faltering entrance into what is; Psalm 116 is a good traveling companion no matter the forecast in my autumn’s garden. And an unexpected blooming red rose helps, too!