The pink magnolia are in bloom.
And ahhh….Those lush, tulip rose blossoms make me sigh for Heaven. Reverential awe twirls petticoat to the breeze in them. Gently floats petals to carpet the green in heathery, feathery blush at my feet. Invokes dream, softens whispers even more to prayer, gives wings to my arms and makes me feel as if I could… fly…yyyy
Was it but a day or so ago when all the eye beheld was bleak bare branches still stretched yearning, empty-armed, so long in waiting, wondering if…spring…would…ever…come?
So like the secret heart I’ve been holding these last few years. I could spin into worry and fear and doubts and frustration… if… I… let… myself… think… on all the whys and hows of it. Or, on all the oh, God how are You going to provide a way out of this moments…
So most of the time I just don’t.
,,,for days like one recent morn when I awoke to a problem and a mess that wrung me dry of hope and believing…
Hurriedly handling things as best I could for the moment, dashing out to my car and office, I donned frustration like a shawl strung nearly threadbare round my shoulders. Hugged it tightly throughout the work day as if succumbing to the numbing that seemed to keep prayers from even forming in my thoughts. Every so often picking at those loose threads.
In the split-moment of happenstance, I’d been angry. Disgusted, frustrated that this situation keeps cropping up. Angry at what has caused it to keep recurring in the first place. Then… simply…too blue to pray or even let myself ponder it.
Or to let the flowering branch of promise the Lord has been sowing deep within me to drench with worship rain afresh: Test me in this and see if I don’t open up heaven itself to you and pour out blessings beyond your wildest dreams. For my part, I will defend you against marauders, protect your wheat fields and vegetable gardens against plunderers.” The Message of God-of-the-Angel-Armies. [Malachi 3:10, The Message]
I could hear His fluttering of wings against my heart, bidding me throughout the day to hold on… keep looking to those skies… But weariness is wearing to even the whispered voice.
Coming home, gathering up remnants I’d had to leave waiting all day, finally sinking down to rest my head on couch… I listened to my phone messages through tears and wonder.
Out of the blue… three callers who have seen my artwork… wanted to talk more of lovely gifts they want to give and how I can be of service.
A message from a business rep that she had another way to make something we’d been working towards happen. Something that will bring a lightening to one major worry, but one that had hopeless written all over it a few days earlier. Don’t give up, she encouraged.
And on email –– a few more excited potentials contacting me!
So many bare, bare branches… now glimmering with hope.
Wow, Lord, I breathed, Then, and again throughout that week — as more upon more seemed to come like surprise packages to my door, gaily tied in colored ribbons.
His Holy Presence all round me, enfolding all my prayers of so long in this moment of sudden bloom. No other words…but words enough. Thank You…
Ahhh… The pink magnolia are in bloom.
Blessings He flows like falling, floating, blossoms through my hands (and yours), leaving them as a carpet of remembrance. And neverending promise.
And My God of Angel Armies is singing Victory behind…around…ahead of me (and you.)
Listen to the whispery sound of petals falling at your feet.
Breathe in the scent of Heaven.
And… don’t give up.
© Pam Depoyan
Imperfect Prose at Emily Wierenga’s place