Damp paper pots, seedlings standing resolutely within,
Nestled into deeper dirt, room therein to sink their reaching white roots.
Sixty degrees under overcast skies; gray in the greenhouse.
Agitation, or just plain grumpiness, anyways
“Lord, help me find You, sense You, see You”
Watering can heavy against my palm, tilting and pouring
Currants, lemon, peppers, onions, radishes, lettuces, promise.
Into the house where the vacuum is humming and the mop is swishing across the floors
Johnny Cash on the record player and a board game spread out on the table
And my spirit a bit lighter, the day remaining gray.
Sometimes the soul casts about, feeling a want, a thirst, feeling bereft of a something, or a Someone.
Why art thou cast down, O my soul? And why art thou disquieted within me? Hope thou in God; for I shall yet praise him, Who is the help of my countenance, and my God. Psalm 43:5
They’ve said that God never distances Himself from us, but that we distance ourselves from Him
Which may be true or perhaps
He withdraws to teach us to miss Him, to thirst aright, to feel the chill of gathering dark, when the Light recedes
As a parent pauses, the children struggling at this thing or that, not rushing in as heroes
Allowing roots to press deeper and for faith to find an answering
Can I trust the One on the other side of my hopes
Are You there and unabashedly loving, closer than my breath, every atom of me held together because You are?
The day continues gray but outside the birds are singing.