Spring Extended. Take Note.

In some ways we have experienced time standing still during these weeks on my parents farm. I feel as if I touched the lamp post and ended up in my own Narnia world.

In this place of timelessness away from thudding tick tock throb of that striving demands, I see my boys in the echoes of my own childhood--climbing my trees, rolling down my hills, dancing, pretending grown-up things and embedded in the carefree place of perfectly happy, playful little people.

The season has breathed it's fresh scent into us. We glory in each new bud.

I noticed for the first time or remembered again that before even Maple trees flow into leaf, they too have dainty flowers that gently float away so that in mere days the helicopter fruits can take flight. Because the spring has been on the cool side, we have enjoyed a world with stop action. Our verdant spring has been underlined and crowned bold.
With our noses to the ground, we gawked at the field violets and felt the silkiness of the grass flowers. We caked our shoes in mud to hollow out housing for the roots of a hundred little saplings. At night Isaac doesn't want to sleep until he can hear the frogs singing down on the pond. And they do sing. The baby birds that Pampa and Benjamin found in the barn will soon join them adding the counterpoint of chirping during the day.

Now a new calf has been born, the soybeans will sprout soon and even the Rhododendrons are blooming which is significant because I never expected to be here long enough to see them. But I am. While sitting in the waiting room of life before the door opens to that next thing can pull at your patience, this has been a haven, a respite and full of simple joys. I think that slowly the cold earth of my heart made dormant with my little sorrows and disappointments and frustrations with my own inadequacies and failures despite my labors and prayers is warming in the sunshine of this temporary time when all around me are God's testimonials. I see, smell, hear, feel living.


The grass flowers are begging me to take off my shoes and dance in this world--my own little dance.

If there is a place for every such flowering thing, then the space for me must need me as well.