Circles: Teardrops and Daffodils

I always start Lent early. When the cold, grey days of January set in, I hibernate and look inward to try to scrape a little of the spiritual mold off my soul. I seem to be on nature’s calendar rather than a liturgical one.
Sometimes it’s hard to dig my way out of my burrow again. But the first sign of daffodils bravely struggling up to the light is my personal sign of hope. (My blog post, Sign of Hope, tells why.)
This week the daffodils in my yard are almost all the way up.  And it really has been a lovely grace filled week.
And as I write this, the raindrops are clinging to the bare tree branches outside my windows. That’s another of my favorite spirit lifting graces. Here’s something I wrote years ago to describe the sense of our circle of life that this always brings me.
Fat raindrops glisten
On bleak winter branches,
Wistfully clinging
In pregnant suspense.
But earth’s silent call
Comes bursting their bubbles
Of immortality.
The world weeps at endings,
Reluctant to admit
That nothing lasts forever,
Not even death.
For each dying teardrop                                                                                                                         Becomes a rainbow celebration                                                                                                                   of the sun’s rebirth.


About Eileen

Mother of five, grandmother of eleven, great-grandmother of five. 1955 -1959 Rice University in Houston, TX. Taught primary grades; Was Associate Post Director of Religious Education at Ft. Campbell, KY; Consultant on the Myers/Briggs Type Indicator; Presently part time Administrative Assistant/Bookkeeper for Architect husband of fifty-nine years.

Posted on January 25, 2013, in Gifts of Age, Healing, Nature, Spiritual and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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