I’m so glad to think of you as I write this message, you warm my heart as the sun warms the land around me.
I hope Spring is appearing where you are. In my world, I see snowdrops replace snow in quiet corners, tree buds tightly bundled and ready to burst, the goldfinch’s yellow returning and an ease when I walk outside. Winter’s cold has loosened it’s grip at Beseck, thankfully, and a new season outside invites a new season within.
Just like the faithful farmers and gardeners who tend their seedlings in the basement or greenhouse, I too am caring for new life. A little seed of Trust was planted in my heart, tucked away in the darkness and nourished by prayer and promise. The green seedling is strong now, leaves outstretched, reaching for the light and fed by the warmth and water below. I am growing trust.
I’m sort of proud of myself, I have to admit. The news of the world and our country weighs heavy on my heart. The faces of people in distress and anguish, the injustices that are fermenting around us, and loss – personal and collective loss…all are part of my awareness and thus part of my prayer. And still, I tend my little seedling of Trust. I suspect there are many varieties of Trust, like tomatoes, and, like tomatoes, they serve different purposes. I’m not 100% clear what the purpose is for this particular sprout, but that’s part of the deal with Trust, isn’t it? For me, it’s an invitation to openness and a generosity of spirit. We shall see…
In my quiet time today, I sat with that seed. Pushed aside, broken apart to make room for the emerging seedling, I saw the pain that comes with new life. I offered a prayer of gratitude for the promise it protected until it was time, I honored the pain of transformation that all living things endure. I told the seed that I will participate in the care of it’s seedling, this young and most eager, tendril of Trust. I will mind her lovingly and faithfully, as she, and I, mature in the warmth of the sun and the light of Love.
with affection and gratitude,