Monday, March 25, 2013

Spring Snow (Remain here, stay)


Then he said to them, "I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and stay with me."
Matthew 26:38

Snow fell during my March retreat, swirling, driven white upon the spring-green and brown world.  Flat and thin, large flakes like communion wafers dissolving on the sun-warmed tongue of the earth.  It lay in patches, queen-ann’s-lacing the woodland path where the first shoots sprung up and tiny, white flowers dotted. 

I couldn’t help but smile, for surely God was laughing – laughing at our springing forward eagerness, our expectation that the turning of the seasons might be rushed along through impatience.  We were ready for spring, but the stillness of winter crept in among us, bringing its gentle silence and heavy, dripping ice. 
As snow fell, heaven whispered, “Stay here, just a little longer.  There’s more to be found here in the depths of this silence, more to be gathered.”
*   *   *
I know this snow won't last, it's here and gone before the day is done like manna, so much bread falling from heaven's cloudy eye.  But there’s nothing more painful to me than being asked to stay where I would rather not.  Give me the command to “get up and go” and I’ll be ready, bags packed, at your beck and call.  But ask me to stay and watch awhile and I, like the disciples, would prefer a dark and restless sleep to the tearful wrestling with that which I did not, would not, chose. 

Yet here we are, days into spring, and snow is falling still, heavy and wet, pillowing everything under gentle curves.  The birds don’t seem to mind, busy as they are and singing too, confident in what’s to come.  They believe, as all earthly creatures must, that the world will turn again, rolled back like a giant stone as life emerges. 
*   *   *
Stay awake my friends, stay awake and watch awhile.  Do not fear the long dark night for even now the world itself is tilting, leaning toward the edge of winter and the end of our waiting.  Outside my window the trees’ heavy white robes of snow are sliding to the ground where they lay, like burial shrouds, cast off, empty. 

Remain here, stay and listen awhile and you too might hear the moment the melting begins; one single drip followed by a chorus of dripping, dropping, living waters as death is again defeated, transformed, until all that remains are the shining droplets, a million sparkling crystals hung like jewels on the tree of life.     


Photo source here. and here.

This post is shared with Playdates with God and Hear it on Sunday, Use it on Monday.

8 comments:

  1. This is beautiful. Thank you!!! :)

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  2. An absolute gorgeous write. I love how you say things without outright saying it, how you hint at the resurrection, the robes of white falling, the burial shrouds falling, life emerging. I'm so glad I read this tonight. It leaves me so restful this holy week. Blessings {coming by from Playdates}

    {I want to invite you to come join in #concretewords if you'd like this week--it's a link-up that Amber Haines handed over, and we're just getting started--you can link up anytime this week!} http://sixinthehickorysticks.blogspot.com/2013/03/a-stirring-abstraction-on-spirit.html

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  3. Kelly, this is so lovely. Your words uplift and open my eyes to the ways I miss the beauty God gives me by asking me to stay where I am for a time. Thank you.

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  4. Kelly, thank you so much for linking up with me for #concretewords. This was a perfect write for spirit, and you lay it down and make it feel concrete. Beautiful. If you're on twitter and facebook, since we're just getting started, I'd love for you to give a shout-out about the link-up! Thanks and so, so nice to meet you.

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    1. Thanks, Nacole, glad you stopped by and I hope to keep track of the link-up!

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  5. hiya, I'm here from concretewords. lovely meditation.

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