I had never experienced such a disappointment as far as weather goes since we moved to the south. And as it is, the month of March has been such a treacherous, difficult thing to bear this year. In the outside and inside of me, things have been equally bleak and as ridiculously erratic as March has been.
A strong, healthy sun brought me out this afternoon, and for the first time in weeks I was able to sit outside and enjoy a cup of cinnamon latte while watching the birds in their comings and goings, and marvel, and listen to the uncanny baby-like cry of squirrels in the woods.
Look at those eyes and pose... a witch of a bird for sure!
I tried to pray too, as I used to, but found myself faulty and emptied, standing on the arid landscape from which God had disappeared.
"Jesus has a very special love for you, but as for me, the silence and the emptiness is so great, that I look and do not see,--Listen and do not hear--the tongue moves in prayer, but does not speak ... I want you to pray for me--that I let Him have a free hand." Mother Teresa
Things are growing slowly, but they are, and I already can see green, young crowns sprouting from the ground like some holy beings in the transition of resurrection.
The kois and goldfishes are nowhere to be seen and I guess they are waiting for the water to warm up, and the land to paint itself in lively greens, but the pond is looking awesome in its dark bottoms and water that maintain its fullness, and never decreases. I love it.
This afternoon while I was out in the garden, I saw a woman and her daughter going by our little white cottage and suddenly my heart was alight with joy... for I instantly knew who they were... Jane, and her young daughter... an older, overweight version of the woman I remembered from four years ago, but nonetheless Jane. And I was happy to see she was well, and sad too that I couldn't approach and say hi, because by the time I had reached the hill they were already going down and too soon disappeared from my vision, leaving me only with the hope of seeing then again this year.
The garden is already looking so much prettier now, even when there's practically nothing blooming there yet. The other day I throw away all those plants that got damaged by frost and cold temperatures, and for the first time I'm not dwelling on what is gone. I has set my mind on new flowering pots embellishing our little patio in the back and front porch and this brings a lot of joy. I'm determine to freed my spirit of unnecessary worry and accept things I cannot change. It is not resignation—it's an act of faith, and liberation.
Thank you for being here with me!