blast out your message of hope!
Rebel against the weariness of despair,
the back-breaking burden of seriousness,
the meticulous dissection of fearful plans.
None of the world’s noise is loud enough
to silence the sound of your wordless proclamation:
“Have hope, hope, hope!”
The grimy winter is grinding to a halt
and from the earth’s breast,
goodness is springing forth once again.
A world of grey is shattered
by one shard of green and yellow life.
Now that I am back home,
there are still the birds
and the sky,
the sunshine on green leaves
and the fresh morning air
on my face
when I first step outside
to water the garden,
trying to make of my little home
a dwelling place of beauty and love.
It is worth it to stay up half the night
to see the misty moon
disappear and re-emerge behind the scattered clouds
that drift like silver ribbons across the sky.
It is worth it to peer up at the quiet stars
and hear above the faint roar of a few cars
on the highway far below
the gentle hoot of an owl.
It is worth it so see the silhouette of trees
standing like living paintbrushes
solemn and still
against the pearly grey night sky.
It it worth it to feel the summer air
on my skin at midnight
and know that the goosebumps
are more from awe
than the slight cool of the breeze.
It is worth it to stay up half the night
to be in love with the ever-changing sky
and write it poetry.
Creation is so beautiful—
my heart is bursting with it!
Can anyone feel so happy as I am
alone with the moon,
in the company of memories?
So here’s my happy headline for the week: I’m on workshop at the Copper Ridge Conference Centre at Britannia Beach and it’s amazing! After years of fundraising efforts, and the amazing generosity of many donors, both great and small, the dream of a beautiful, peaceful place for people to come on retreat has come true! But don’t take my word for it—look! This is the view from my room!!
I feel so incredibly happy because when I’m surrounded by beautiful nature, I feel like I’m twelve again, and tromping through the woods with my brothers.
I’ve been able to do things like stick my feet in the cool rushing creek…
…perch on top a huge rock to gaze and the view, read my book and write.
…..and swim in the ocean at this beach!
All of this would be great even if we were roughing it and camping, but boy are we not. Instead our small group (half the usual size due to Covid safety measures) is staying in the elegant centre and being treated like queens by the lovely administration who cook for us…a massive treat for a group of busy moms! Because we can only seat two at each table, we’ve taken turns sitting with someone different at most meals, and have all gotten to know each other so much better! This has been a balm for my company-starved soul!
So what does it look like, the building?
Well, that’s enough pictures for one day…next time I’ll show you the wildflowers, some of the old artwork inside….and more of those lovely views!
Miracles do happen! Hope your day is filled with them!
Since I cannot come to church today
I’ll try to find you as I pray.
I’ll see you, my God,
in humble little places–
bejewelled flowers and children’s faces,
things of beauty, gentle graces.
Come spring, come spring,
Let flowers sing!
Let no more melancholy winter reign,
With its thousand reasons to complain.
No more introspection in the dark
Be rather joyous as the lark!
Burst outside the walls your soul restricting
Let yourself fly on winds uplifting.
A hillside of flowers catches my eye
I hurry toward them on feet light and lithe.
Tiny crocuses shake in the breeze
Delighted to see them I drop to my knees
Translucent petals tremble and sigh
But lift their glowing faces to the sky.
Despite the February frost,
Let not one day of sunshine be lost!
The trees are so stable,
their moods have such endurance.
They hold on for months
to the bare bitterness of winter,
the absence of even a rustling leaf.
Then the trees embrace the sweet joyfulness of spring
in a long coquettish smile,
a blossom-blush lasting months.
Afterwards, the trees sail into the smooth serenity of summer,
wearing their regal wreaths with proud satisfaction.
Even the flaming, flickering colours of fall flash across their faces for months,
the trees, with their moods more stable than mine,
for I am but a tiny body of water
wrapped in skin.
My thinly guarded surface subject to tremors of wind,
the harassment of a sudden hailstorm
or the steady pounding of rain.
I’ve been know to get icicles in my eyelashes
tears of pain frozen before fully released.
Some things are better to let go of quickly.
In all this variable moodiness,
this passionate intensity and depth of feeling,
I am not alone,
for are we not all but small bodies of water
wrapped in skin,
the tides in our hearts tugged about by not just the moon,
but by the moods of all the other bodies of water
bumping around us
in this space
that is earth.
Spring is finally here.
The toddler and I are equally happy
digging in the garden
with dirt under our fingernails
and warm sunshine in our hair.
Out in the garden,
I can almost forget my messy house
–rooms cluttered with kids’ clothes and toys–
out here where dirt means not disorder,
but openness to growth
and getting messy is a necessary step
on the path to beauty.