don’t let love lose
because of tripping and stumbling
don’t let light die
though it may flicker
as petals shatter
and thorns bring blood,
don’t let the rose die from drought
let it bud again with fragrant bloom
let healing happen
I choose you again
let love win
“Courage is found in unlikely places.” ― J.R.R. Tolkien
Announcing Autumn on my porch,Duranta berries are reminders of the beauty and importance of small things. Birds love these berries, so I welcome cardinals and mockingbirds as morning visitors. Their thank you notes trill as they perch on my kitchen windowsill. I enjoyed the plant’s summer blooms, but the small berries they left are an enchanting reminder of joy we find when we watch for life as it is made up of moments.
I think of [my life] in all its small component parts: the snowdrops, the daffodils; the feeling of one of my kids sitting close beside me on the couch; the way my husband looks when he reads with the lamp behind him; fettuccine Alfredo; fudge; Gone with the Wind, Pride and Prejudice. Life is made up of moments, small pieces of glittering mica in a long stretch of gray cement.
~ Anna Quindlen, in A Short Guide to a Happy Life
waving alleluias
grasses dance in morning breeze
to rhythm of the seasons
One of my favorite places to be still is here, beneath a very old oak tree in our church prayer garden. Its branches spread out over a trickling stream and bubbling fountain and a small labyrinth. In dry times, like our present drought, there is crusty brown growth along its mighty branches. But when we are blessed with rainfall, this turns to vibrant green. It is Resurrection Fern.
At all times I soak up the green and growing refreshment of this place. But it is in the times when I feel drought in my spirit that I come here to be still and know God, and to refill and refuel – the greening of my heart, Eastering.
“To learn something new, take the path that you took yesterday”. ~John Burrough
vine greens and reaches
early light dawns and dapples
new morning new mercy
“Sitting in your garden is a feat to be worked at with unflagging determination and single-mindedness – for what gardener worth his salt sits down. I am deeply committed to sitting in the garden.” – Mirabel Osler
Sitting still is necessary for so many things: I listen better when I sit still. I hear things unheard when I am crunching on the gravel or digging or clipping. The butterflies and hummingbirds come closer when I am still. The cardinal pair lingers longer on the fence. Appreciation and savoring of beauty may run after me when I am on the move but they settle around my shoulders like a soft cover when I sit still. And in the stillness I begin to settle – the cloudy debris of things which can fret and hurt begin to drift to the bottom, leaving pure, clear knowing. Holy moments can happen when I sit in my garden.
Morning Glory opens
grace glows in star gift
wrapped in blue tissue
“It is a bold and colossal claim that we put forward – that the whole of life is sacramental, that there are innumerable ‘means of grace’ by which God is revealed and communicated – through nature and through human fellowship and through a thousand things that may become the ‘outward and visible sign’ of ‘an inward and spiritual grace’.”
~ A. Barrett Brown
Photo by Madelyn Claire Parker, age 7
They can be like a sun, words.
They can do for the heart
what light can for a field.
-St. John of the Cross, Love Poems from God (trans. Daniel Ladinsky)
This weather worn garden sign is propped on the fence behind my cucumber vines. When I gathered my small harvest, I thought of these words. The blessing of light, along with soil and moisture produced something good and nourishing. The word Peace reminds me that my words have that potential when I use them to bless and encourage.
Sadly, the opposite can also be true. Words spoken in haste or frustration may damage growth and wither relationship. I can choose to speak light and blessing. I pray to speak Peace.
Celebrate Now
I have long thought Hibiscus flowers exotic and lovely. They remind me of Bali, where we often visited when we lived in Indonesia. Outside the little thatched roof lodging at Poppie’s Cottages where we sometimes stayed, large shrubs of the plant were always in bloom. Once I sat outside on the tiny porch where they left our kopi and mango breakfast and painted one of the flowers. I remember searching for a scarlet or vermillion paint that would allow me to capture the intensity of its color. Now I mostly photograph the hibiscus that grow in our garden. They help me remember to celebrate today – because today is all each flower has. Whether I enjoy the bloom as it grows with large glossy leaves, or pluck it to bring inside to grace our kitchen table, it only lasts one day. Putting its stem into water does not prolong the beauty. By the next morning, this flower’s petals folded shut.
Stones and Feathers 