A Cherry Blossom Heaven

It holds court in our backyard, this tree that produces blossoms in the spring and causes my husband massive anxiety over clean up. I study the way the branches hang lower than previous springs. How I am able to snip off a stem for a crystal vase in the house, the light pink blooms drenched in rain weighing the branches down to just above the head. I think about record rainfall here in Oregon, and for this gift I am happy glad. And I think about those branches, how laden they are with the blossoms hanging down to my touch. We are like those tree branches at times. Weighed down with pain, trials, burdens we didn't ask for and will the rain stop pouring down hard on all the hurting?

Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.

For thirty-five years I thought this was a plum tree planted in our yard. This gift of nature that has grown exponentially, shades the entire deck now. After returning from cherry blossom heaven in the DC area, I took a closer look at the blooms, at the trunk and the stems. And after searching the Internet my husband and I decided this must be one of those trees I had secretly coveted. How had I missed this? How did I not know I had this covert desire of mine right in front of me all these years?

Maybe it was all that ice and snow we had this winter, or perhaps it was the chronic rainy days blanketing the city that caused me to take notice of this tree that reigns beauty under patches of sunlight, adorns the color-starved landscape with splashes of pink. 

 And as the rain lets up, those branches inch higher toward the sun muscling its way through the gray clouds, slowly lifting toward the light reaching out from above. It always comes back to the light. When the darkness fades, the pain relief comes, the trial is over, the burden is lifted even for a flicker of a moment, we catch glimpses of His redeeming light slicing through the dark. Maybe without the drenchy hard rainy seasons, without the icy cold dark hours, we would never reach His full height of that radical grace. Never see for ourselves the deepest, secret desires of ours, that beautiful deposit of heaven that lies way deep within, waiting ever so patiently to be recognized, celebrated and crazily rejoiced in.

#Gracealwaysgrows

The King Of Bedazzle

I saw it on the news station, this breaking news piece on laptops in the airport, undetected bombs they say are possible. Will this madness ever end?  I flip open my suitcase, think about packing and glance at the long list of items scribbled on a sheet of paper. Leaving soon for a trip back east and desperately longing for a mind cleanse, a spiritual detox from all the latest breaking reports on all the hurt, the political chaos, the famine, the wars and all the what-ifs swirling around the airwaves, the Internet feeds, the newspapers. How can we stay sane in this environment of hate, suspicion and starving people who desperately need the aid that's having a hard time getting there? We need clean air! And laptops? Tucking a shirt into the suitcase, I inhale one of those breaths our yoga instructor says are cleansing, healthy and maybe spiritual too. Oh God, overwhelm us with majesty, bedazzle us, help us to keep walking and living upright. And this slow exhale leaves a trail of possibility, a scent of hope expelling into the room,

Later, in church, I feel His hand touching us all, a feathery brush, a gentle hello. A silent walking down the aisle, between the rows, reaching the girl up there with Downs Syndrome, the black woman across the aisle, the Hispanic couple two rows ahead, the older man with silvery hair, the whole lot of us. This guy who won the battle and never gives up on us and here today He made time to hang out with us. Heaven's aroma wafting right around our praising, pleading frames and I stand there in awestruck wonder. You hear, right? You see all the fighting, crying, greed and hate going on, right? You got it all figured out but we kind of want to know that it will all be OK.

 And I get home, open a book on the table and read a line penned by Ann Voskamp: "The answer to the problem of evil is everything that lets us keep loving God-even in the face of evil." We can pray, we can sing, we can help others, we can stay informed but not let the chaos form us.

So I inhale once again a deep yoga breath, a prayer breath really, releasing it ever so slowly, and it spills into the partially packed suitcase sitting on the bed. And I am pretty sure He hears us.

Oh God, you are the King of bedazzle.