Friday, March 29, 2013
Earthen Clod of Joy
I remember years ago attending a Good Friday evening service. The service was somber. I looked around at an almost empty church and thought how odd knowing it would be packed come Easter morning. Those that did attend were elderly. Their presence was palpable and majestic as they listened to the somber service. At the end of the service the altar was stripped, all adornments were removed and the cross was cloaked in black. I know the power and touch of wind and storms, the warmth of the sun, the immersion of silence and yes, I know silence all too well. Never has silence held such presence as I watched the few elderly that were there as they moved about stripping the altar and not a word was said. When the last adornment was removed, the cross cloaked in black, they simply left into the night, again in silence, their presence adorning the sanctuary stripped of all else. Sunday the now stripped sanctuary would be filled with color, joy, and packed with people dressed in such finery and laughter.
We yearn for the glory of spring. We long for the abundance, warmth, growth and its folding into the busyness and play of summer. A week ago, in my own yearning of the seasons, I planted seeds. I watched the earth for their emergence. The earth and pots looked stripped like the sanctuary. Still I watered knowing the seeds were there. At night the moon shone through their window. At last a sprout emerged but a clod of dirt weighted it down. I watched as the sprout pushed its way up, carrying the clod on its clumped fist of two leaves, lifting the earth, not to be denied. The day after this picture was taken, the clod of earth had been tossed to the side and the sprout stood straight welcoming the touch of the sun and moon. And in its tossing of the clod, another tiny sprout waited to emerge ... and would do so free of the weight...the clod was perfectly placed.
May I learn the rhythm of Life, Love and nature. To know when to allow my roots to go deep. To know when to stand tall, blossom and flower. To know that barren days are but Hope's rest and silence, nurturing the strength within. To know when the weight seems heavy, to continue to push and then to toss aside so another may grow. To know the joy, the color, the beauty of being human and honor the days of feeling stripped of all adornments. May I, please sweet Life, never forego the rhythms of fullness, the celebration of Life's tides and pulls and attend Life only in the spring. May I be so wise. May I be so joyful. May I not deny myself the clod of earth...its joy, love, laughter and hope.