“Let Thy word live abundantly among us-
They word, the true, the deep,
Thy word, the tender, the loving.
Let it resound; let it ring,
now in speech, now in song
in every house that is called by Thy name…
Holy Spirit, be our guest.
Blow through our souls
as when the mild winds of spring kiss the earth.
Light up our spirits as when the rosy dawn
breaks through the gloom and darkness of the night.
Let every dry and withered heart be refreshed
by the dew Thou sendest from heaven;
Thou, our Father, Lord, hear our prayer.
–Ditlev Gothard Monrad (1811-1887)
I hate to admit it, but I am a comfort shopper.
Food, of course, remains at the top of my list for impulse buys when I am upset– a meal at Chic Fil A or an iced coke (unfortunately) bring me a great deal of comfort.
But what used to bandage my loneliness, a new shirt or a purse, has changed drastically.
Now I go to the Goodwill down the road from our house and come home with beauties like this:
And I buy books to read in this last season in Fayetteville- books that Oprah tags as readable, books about friends in Southern towns.
The new coffee mug has water colored blooms splashed across the inside and outside, against bare white ceramic. the dark teal, red orange, and purple hues draw me to the beauty of spring, even on a surprisingly cold day.
Eliot and I planted seeds a few weeks ago with hopes that something might come from them, something to promise us that there is life here in our midst.
Tiny green leaves have popped up one by one: cilantro, basil, marigolds, zinnias, and, with more reluctance, my rosemary.
Every green leaf pulls the giddy child out of me as I grab Eliot’s hand and drag him across the yard to see the contents in the colored pots.
“Plant’s growin’!” he shouts, tears springing forth as I thank God, once again, for the life that’s right before my eyes.
Life can be so small and so obvious.
My boys started the size of a speck, and here they go, bustling about with full hearts.
Cilantro grows up through fed soil and produces fresh, edible leaves.
A new mug brings spring inside a home and into a lonely heart as coffee slips down the throat.
The daisies and wildflowers at our wedding promised us new life together, new life and precious seasons.
And a new book reminds me that, though I feel alone in this season, life abounds in words on a page.
Life is here in the spring and the Spirit all around me, lifting me up, blowing through my soul as it blew through the soul of Ditlev Gothard Monrad.
So, it seems, we’re not alone at all.