Tag: spring

Today I Saw a Crocus

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“Even the wilderness and desert will be glad in those days.  The wasteland will rejoice and blossom with spring crocuses.” Isaiah 35:1 (NLT)

It has been a while since I last wrote. I have had some ideas for posts, but have not written, and as is usual, discouragement has begun to set in. 

January was a long, yet quick month for me. Our oldest had another surgery and Dale and I had the privilege to be with her family. Time flies by with a nine year old around. It was a wonderfully exhausting time spent with her. 

During our time there, Dale and I celebrated our 49th anniversary. We have spent three anniversaries in that area, our first, our 48th and our 49th. Obviously, it was a time of reflection for me. The city has changed drastically since we were first married, dirt roads are now paved busy highways. The sky scape is filled with homes, high rises, and buildings. 

Seeing the city’s growth reflected my thoughts on our marriage. When we lived in the Tidewater area, we had many rough and dirt roads in our life together. We also have seen growth together. Much of our life together has been filled with reconstruction, and paving of our ways. We have been torn down like the apartments we lived in 49 years ago. We have had to restart and renew and ask for forgiveness and give forgiveness. Our life is now like the gentrified areas of the town we started out in. We have been given a fresh start and have grown to welcome and be comfortable with each other. As I looked at Dale at our anniversary dinner, I saw glimpses of the young sailor I fell in love with, but, I also saw my life, my heart.

As February came and we arrived home, I knew that there was a feeling of something deep in me. Yes, I miss my daughter and her family. I miss the noise and activity of our granddaughter. But, there was something missing.

As I walked to get our mail, a spot of yellow caught my eye. Our crocuses are blooming. Out of the cold and dormant earth, these little flowers break through. A reminder that spring is right around the corner. A little hope in a drab and dreary winter landscape, pushing past the dead leaves surrounding them.

Writing is what gives me joy. When I don’t write discouragement happens. I know I am not the best writer in the world, but it is what feeds me in a way I don’t find elsewhere. It is where I hear my Savior’s voice and encouragement. It’s where I feel His presence. 

As I walked toward our mailbox, I prayed. So many thoughts rambled through my mind, so many prayers of gratitude for this past month echoed again as they have throughout January. God is good. He is faithful. Today, He gave me words to write and a tangible sign of hope and strength. There is nothing like seeing a crocus in the middle of winter. 

A Random Memory

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“Father to the fatherless, defender of widows— this is God, whose dwelling is holy.” Psalm 68:5 (NLT)

My time of walking is a time for prayer, a time to reflect and often it is a time when random things pop into my head. Today was no different.

What happened today was a memory of my Dad. I don’t often write about my Dad, I don’t know why. I have always looked like my Dad’s side of the family. I have the same unibrow he had, and I now yell at the television like he did. I like to walk like he did. There are many similarities. He was a quiet man. Conversations weren’t always easy with him. He died suddenly which was a shock to everyone. The above scripture is one the Lord gave me on the flight home from his funeral.

The random memory was about a time I spent with my Dad on an early Sunday morning, years ago. I have always been a horrible sleeper. One night must have been one of those nights that I kept my parents up also. This is how I remember the events of that early Sunday morning.

My Dad walked into the bedroom I shared with my younger sister. He said that since I was awake, I might as well get up and dressed to go to early mass. The early mass was at 5:30 a.m.

I got dressed in my new Easter jacket (a short white one, and a red rose covered headband) and off we went in the dark. After mass, the sun was just rising. We drove past our house and continued on to the cemetery. He parked at the far edge of the cemetery and we got out to walk. I had never been there before and honestly, I don’t know if I have ever gone back to that point since.

Spring flowers were just blooming. I remember holding onto my Dad’s hand and listening to him talk. I can’t remember what he said, I just have the memory of his voice talking to me. I felt so special in that moment.

We got to the edge of a hill and watched as the sun continued to rise. Below us ran the Allegheny River, hard to see at first, but glistened as the sun hit it . The sun woke the birds and they chirped as daylight began.

There were few moments like this with my Dad. It was a different time and generation. Dad’s were the quiet head of the houses. They were stern and catered to.

Later in my life, this man became the single parent to three daughters. How strange that must have been for him. I am certain he felt overwhelmed and at a loss as to what to do. But, he was steadfast in being there. Not always saying or doing things correctly, but he was a constant.

As I walked this morning, I realized that our Heavenly Father is a constant also. He is a father to the fatherless. I felt this morning that it has been too long since I walked hand in hand with Him. Like normal families, we often dash in to grab a quick snack only to dash out again to be on our way. Our Heavenly Father is understanding, but I feel like He longs for us to stop, talk, crawl up into His lap and listen as His voice fills our being with knowledge that we are special.

Spring

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“Look, the winter is past, and the rains are over and gone. 12 The flowers are springing up,
    the season of singing birds has come, and the cooing of turtledoves fills the air.” Song of Solomon 2:11-12 (NLT)

It’s been a few days since I was able to walk and enjoy being outside. This morning I walked to the mailbox and marveled at the bursts of pink, red, white, yellow and green.

I immediately went back in time to my fourth grade year at school. The spring of that year our class did a program on poetry. I loved it. One of the poems we recited was “in just spring’ by ee cummings. Each year I remember the verse and recite it in my mind.

This poet always intrigued me as he didn’t follow any grammar rules and he just wrote.

As I finished reciting this to myself I looked at my driveway, a bit soft from the rains the other night, and almost mud-lucious. I recalled the smell of spring growing up. The scent of mud, blackened snow,lilacs,and trees coming back to life. The air was familiar today and I thanked God for such a day as this.

Spring is a new season, it is birthed by the burst of pollen and trees, leaves, and daffodils. It is like a call from our Lord to awake and renew.

This season I look for the newness of the season and know that with each physical season of life, there is a spiritual one that accompanies it. Lord, awaken me to be renewed in You and burst forth with a freshness and vitality that matches the budding of nature around me.

Spring

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in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman
whistles far and wee
and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it’s
spring
when the world is puddle-wonderful
the queer
old balloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing
from hop-scotch and jump-rope and
it’s
spring
and
the
goat-footed
balloonMan whistles
far
and
wee e.e.cummings

I was introduced to this poem in fourth grade. I immediately fell in love with this poet who ignored conventional grammar. He even used lower case letters for his name. What’s not to love in that?

Since that year many, many years (okay decades) ago, I recite this poem in my mind each year. The words are delicious to me.

When we lived in San Diego there were only a few weeks of real spring. It was when the grasses were green and the poppies bloomed. Then everything returned to normal and most of the grass withered and it was dull.

Spring has been in our area for a while now. The yellow layer on everything outside, the hoarse cough I have all day long, the gummy eyes, the runny nose declares spring to my body. I dislike that part of spring, especially feeling like I am carrying a boulder on my chest with each step. Yes, that’s allergies.

My crocuses have bloomed and faded, the daffodils also. My hyacinths are mere shadows of what they were. The dogwood have shed their beautiful flower and now the leaves are taking over. The azaleas have been stunning this year, vibrant in pink, coral and white. Those blossoms, too, are shedding and soon all that will be is a green bush.

I woke up this morning to hearing rain. Lots of rain! “Ask the Lord for rain in the spring, for he makes the storm clouds. And he will send showers of rain so every field becomes a lush pasture.” Zechariah 10:1 (NLT) It was one of those days where the comfort and warmth of the bed and the gentle sound of raindrops tried to convince me not to get up.

I fought the desire to stay snuggled in my bed listening to the tranquil voice of nature. I walked to my windows and opened the curtains. The ground was saturated. The leaves shone with rain. Before me was a symphony of green. Light greens, yellow greens, dark waxy green all greeted me. Each spring I stand at my window amazed at the glorious creation in my front yard. After years of dullness, our Lord brought me into this harmony of trees, shrubs and flowers.

Surrounding my home today was my reminder of ee cummings. Thank you sir, for the words to describe my outdoors, mud-lucious, and puddle-wonderful. Thank you Lord for the spring rain.