My dogwood tree is blooming. There’s a story behind the wonder of that fact. A connection to the wonder and beauty of childhood adventures and the victory of being uprooted, transplanted, and choosing to not only survive, but to thrive and offer beauty and comfort and hope to others.
I went to bed last night to the aroma of baking bread. I reveled in the aroma of fresh toast this morning. There’s a story that aroma brings to mind every time I encounter it. It’s a story of a young woman coming into her own, even through her failures and her inability to see deep within – yet. It’s a story of sisterhood and growth and grappling and being willing to change and understand the deep truths of God in a way that changes life here and now.
The wind and the rain have been drumming against my windows; the storm clouds come in waves – darker and brighter and darker again – calling to memory some of the sweetest days of my times connected with Capernwray Bible School. It is the memory of friendship offered, grace transforming doubt and uncertainty into a lifetime of relationship and encouragement, and the struggle of humanity to overcome prejudice and divides and therefore to find the strength to genuinely love one another in the face of differences.
The triggering of memory and the feelings that are aroused
that call to our souls through our senses
the challenge to remember and think again
and allow the redeeming purposes
of the love and mercy and justice of our God
to break through into new meaning
the revealed glory of God