I love this image of Christ in the Wilderness gathering Wild Flowers painted by Stanley Spencer.
I decided last weekend that I would try to write 500 words, five days a week for the month of March.
And I nearly did this past week. But still, I came up short, not having anything finished enough to post today. Some weeks are like that for me, lots of planting seeds, lots of beginnings, but no real tangible harvest.
Yesterday afternoon I took a nap and the sun came out, sending the temperature up above fifty degrees. The kids swarmed coat-less in the driveway and later in the still-snowy field. I sat inside by a dying fire working on a poem, then did the dishes and made a cake.
We met some new friends for dinner and it amazes me always – how new friends can be made when you least expect it. Since leaving the church we helped plant almost seven years ago, there's been a lot of grieving and letting go. It's almost been enough to make me forget the life that always follows death - the way surrender opens our hands to receive something new.
Sitting around a new table with new faces and listening to us talk, I felt keenly aware that we're not the same people we once were. I heard a spaciousness in our lives, a reaching out beyond ourselves that feels so big and lively.
“It’s just so much fun,” I heard myself say, over and over again, trying to explain the appeal of owning chickens.
This weekend we celebrated the one-year anniversary of buying this good and spacious place here in Boiling Springs. As far as we're concerned, the fact that we live here is a complete miracle, a good old fashioned act of God.
One year ago we held our breath until the papers were signed, while drinking water out of bottles labelled "Trust Matters". We left the lawyer’s office like two foxes leaving a hen house – wide grins on our faces, hardly able to believe we got away with it.
I'm learning that this is what grace feels like, this spaciousness, this bubble of joy that rises, this scandalous abundance unearned.
May you be blessed with grace this Lenten season -
may your emptying be followed by abundance,
may your surrender make way for the new things
already being rooted within you.
May your grief be fruitful,
may your joy be full.
* * * *
Welcome to the #SmallWonder link-up.
What if we chose to deliberately look for the small moments of wonder, the small sparks of presence, of delight or sorrow, of true humanity in which we meet God?
That's my proposal - that we might gather here each week to share one moment of Wonder from each of our days.
You're invited to link-up a brief post of about five hundred words or less about a small moment of wonder. Don't worry if your post is too long, too short, or not just right - you're welcome to come as you are.