It’s an unseasonably hot day as I write this. The magnolias and daffodils have blossomed, the trees are budding out. How lucky we are to witness spring. Life is amazing.
When I am aware of someone who has died and I’m carrying them in my heart, as I have been this week, I sometimes think about how much they would have loved to see this spring day. How much they would have given to get another chance to breathe in the scent of the magnolias, to look closely at the ridges on the petals of the daffodils, or to see their loved ones at the end of the day. I realize that I’ve been hurrying about, busy and stressed and worried about all sorts of things, when each day is truly a gift- and I want to appreciate the chance to breathe it in and open up my eyes.
Sometimes I get this feeling that I need to appreciate life for the both of us- myself and the person who has passed. And then I think of others who’ve died and want to appreciate this specific day on their behalf, too. I want my mind, heart and soul to expand and get big enough to carry some of their gratitude and wonder, which I know they’d be feeling if they were here.
One year, my last spring will come, and I may not even know it at the time. Once I’m gone, I hope that in my stead others will love and feel loved back by the particulars of spring- the magnolias, the daffodils, the budding trees. I hope the children of this congregation are among them.
Wordsworth wrote: “For oft, when on my couch I lie in vacant or in pensive mood, they flash upon that inward eye which is the bliss of solitude; and then my heart with pleasure fills, and dances with the daffodils.”
With daffodil and magnolia blessings,