Love is like wildflowers;
It’s often found in the most unlikely places.
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
Once upon a time, I did a WordPress Photo Challenge on “Delicate” – but that particular interpretation is history by now.
Yesterday, I was teaching kids at the Riveredge Nature Center about ephemeral wildflowers. They are delicate, fragile, and…ephemeral as well.
While the blooms of ephemeral wildflowers are a fleeting splash of joy and color on the landscape, the roots are native, hardy, and deep. They belong, they return, and they endure in the grand scheme. I believe Love is like that. That kind of Love returns to me each Mother’s Day.
When a good foundation supports that which is delicate, its beauty transcends time and circumstance and endures. Let us all love each other with tenderness and care, for we are all delicate creatures yearning to grow strong.
Thank you, Ann-Christine, for inviting us to ponder the Delicate nature of Life.
My smallest baby and only boy was born 30 years ago today, on a Sunday morning. We gave him a name to live up to: Joshua for lordliness and salvation, David for beloved (after a great grandfather and two uncles), and the Italian family surname that he could perpetuate into future generations. Quite a bundle to hoist onto a little guy!
As he grew, he began to reveal what he had to give us: a happy and entertaining spirit, generous competence, and faithful companionship – qualities that echo his father…
…especially now in the years since Jim’s death.
And today, he celebrates his 30th birthday. I am so proud of the man that he has become and the work that he is doing in his life, continually growing more helpful and loving.
I wish him a day of joy! The Birthday Boy:
Today marks 35 years from that January 7th when I got married.
January 7 – past and present
1984 – It’s my wedding day. The weather is chilly and foggy in Northern California. I am too excited to sleep late. I have a date with my fiance for a morning meeting. He comes to pick me up at my parents’ house. My grandmother is aghast that we are seeing each other before arriving at the church; it’s just not done. But we know what we want. We want to focus on each other, on the meaning the day has for us personally before being caught up in the ritual. We park the car under some oak trees in the foothills. We decide it’s too damp and cold to walk, so we sit in the car and talk. We are calm and happy. He drops me off at the house. The next time I see Jim, he is standing at the altar, grinning. …
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Best of the month: January
This has been an eventful year in my life. My son’s wedding, my daughter’s graduation, trips to Badlands, California, and Oregon — I have so much beauty to remember, so much to be grateful for. My personal calendar of photos reflects my little world of favorite things to look at: my loved ones and the view of Nature around me.
I also think of all that these photos do not show that has occurred this year. The world is a mixture of joy and suffering, always. The lens of compassion is the one that I hope is always in my mind’s eye.
Thank you, Ann-Christine, for inviting us to reflect on the year that is past and to look forward to improving in the next.
I celebrate the gathering of family, the reunion of loved ones. I choose the table cloth, polish the silver and wipe the crystal glasses until they shine. I light the candles and arrange the appetizers in a tempting display. I listen for the doorbell.
I remember an Advent anthem I sang in church choir, years ago. It was called Anticipation, and I cannot find the author or the composer, but the words remind me of the joyous preparation and promise of celebration.
“The sky is black; the dawn is but a promise, and here I wait, impatient for the light. My dearest friend is coming back tomorrow. Anticipation fills the endless night, and soon the sky will fill with golden sunlight. The day will break with joy beyond compare, and I will fly — I will fly — to meet him in the air.”