I cannot count how many different greens appear in Springtime.
There is a blush of green on the trees covered with tiny buds trying to open
The changing green as leaves unfurl and fill branches of oak and elm
Sprouting snap peas, lettuces, and fledgling tomatoes are not the same color
Herbs have a whole palette of green of their own: sage, parsley, oregano, chives
Feathery dill and fennel, each uniquely green
All beginning again
All fresh and new
Every green an alleluia,
Singing Easter.
“To be rooted is perhaps the most important and least recognized need of the human soul.” ~ Simone Weil
Recently when family gathered to help us celebrate our 50 years of being married, we were given a small white pot which contained a plastic bag filled with potting soil and a dried, brown ball with papery layers peeling back about the size of a small onion. It was an Amaryllis bulb. As long as I let the pot, the soil, and the bulb wait on my counter, nothing much happened. There was one place where a spot of green wanted to push through its crackly wrapping, but seemed to have grown weary and quit trying. But as soon as opened the soil packet and poured it into the pot, pushed the bulb down, set it in a window, and added water, I could almost hear the dry dirt begin to breathe a lullaby to hungry roots as they began to channel new life into stalk and leaf. Two sturdy stems soon grew heavy with swelling buds. Above, the first scarlet flower opens wide, stamens heavy with pollen.
Then there were three, so large it seemed they would topple. And just as the first bloom began to fade, the second stalk of buds began to open. In all, 6 magnificent delights have graced the plain white pot in my kitchen window. Without roots, this blooming would have stayed inside the brown bulb. The roots were a potential, but not a possibility until nourished with soil and light and water.
What nourishes my soul to satisfy this need for rooting? Do I choose that which roots and grows? These are questions I ask again in a soul’s wintering.
Prayer for a New Year
Epiphany
On Epiphany day,
we are still the people walking.
We are still people in the dark,
and the darkness looms large around us,
beset as we are by fear,
anxiety,
brutality,
violence,
loss —
a dozen alienations that we cannot manage.
We are — we could be — people of your light.
So we pray for the light of your glorious presence
as we wait for your appearing;
we pray for the light of your glorious presence
as we exhaust our coping capacity;
we pray for your gift of newness that
will override our weariness;
we pray that we may see and know and hear and trust
in your good rule.
That we may have energy, courage, and freedom to enact
your rule through the demands of this day.
We submit our day to you and to your rule, with deep joy and high hope.
~ Walter Brueggemann
Temperatures dropped sharply today, so I went out to make sure plants were watered and covered if necessary. I almost missed this little pot of rosemary on the stone wall at the edge of our back porch, but when I saw the petals that had dropped from an nearby rose (yes, blooming in December!) I stopped in one of those moments I wrote about in yesterday’s post. Rosemary is the herb that stands for remembrance. How appropriate it should be hung with festive red. How we need to remember to believe.
Christmas is a place, like the hearth,
where we all come in from the cold.
Drawn by warmth and promise,
cheered in flickering light,
we get closer to the flame
and each other.
Christmas is a place, like the hearth,
Where we gather
in anticipation
of Gift and Giver,
basking around a campfire
of retold story.
Stoking to keep it hotly burning.
Christmas is a place, like my heart,
where the Mary-me receives once again
astonishing news and says yes
to giving birth and being born,
to delivering and being delivered,
to remembering.
Mary Ann Parker 2011
previously posted in December 2011
“In a world that seems not only to be changing, but even to be dissolving, there are some tens of millions of us who want Christmas to be the same…with the same old greeting “Merry Christmas” and no other.
We long for the abiding love among men of good will which the season brings…
believeing in this ancient miracle of Christmas with its softening, sweetening influences to tug at our heart strings once again. We want to hold on to the old customs and traditions because they strengthen our family ties,
bind us to our friends,
make us one with all mankind
for whom the Child was born, and bring us back again to the God Who gave His only begotten Son, that “whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”
So we will not “spend” Christmas…
nor “observe’ Christmas.
We will “keep” Christmas – keep it as it is…
in all the loveliness of its ancient traditions.
May we keep it in our hearts,
that we may be kept in its hope.”
from a sermon by Peter Marshall “Let’s Keep Christmas”
The Opening of Eyes
That day I saw beneath dark clouds
the passing light over the water
and I heard the voice of the world speak out,
I knew then, as I had before
life is no passing memory of what has been
nor the remaining pages in a great book
waiting to be read.
It is the opening of eyes long closed.
It is the vision of far off things
seen for the silence they hold.
It is the heart after years
of secret conversing
speaking out loud in the clear air.
It is Moses in the desert
fallen to his knees before the lit bush.
It is the man throwing away his shoes
as if to enter heaven
and finding himself astonished,
opened at last,
fallen in love with solid ground.
— David Whyte
from Songs for Coming Home
©1984 Many Rivers Press
I sit very still and silent on this early Advent morning as light enters for a new day, casting shadow art on the wall that shifts and changes like rippling water – for me an illustration of the intersection of art and faith. I think of the ways God lets us know He is with us.
“In the small, silent places within us is another voice, one that beckons us into the foolishness of faith, that points our gaze to the birds and the flowers, that, in unguarded moments lets our muscles relax, and our hearts lean into loved ones, in unexpected whispers we hear it, calling us to remember your promises, your grace, your faithfulness, and suddenly, we discover that it is enough. Amen” John Van De Laar
One of the things we love about Advent and Christmas is doing things the same way we have done them for many years. There may be minor changes and adjustments, but there is a sweet remembering in the things we do each year. Even more, a balm for rough times and a surge of hope as we repeat the journey of the heart. I found this entry in a journal i kept 6 years ago. It is dated December 17, 2007, but it could have been words I wrote today. These thoughts were in my mind then, and now again.
“…the most important things that occur during my day usually aren’t on the to-do list. This Monday morning I am reflecting that fact as I finish my Old Testament reading and pray. My heart is preparing – more important than the myriad things that will get done as the day unfolds: laundry, house cleaning, finishing gifts, mailing cards, baking – each becomes an expression of my heart’s preparation. I am so full of awe and wonder and gratitude for the great gift of Christ, the gift of God himself. My home is full of Christmas music, Christmas color, Christmas light. Christmas Light.”
Stones and Feathers 