life opening

"for there is hope for a tree,
if it be cut down, that it will sprout again,
and that its shoots will not cease.
though it grow old in the earth
and its stump die in the soil,
yet at the scent of water it will bud
and put out branches like a young plant."
- Job 14:7-9

it started as a couple sticks protruding through the frozen earth.  so unimpressive that i didn't think to photograph it.  so bland that i stuck a hideous pink flamingo lawn ornament into the soil beside it. 

i didn't notice it begin to open. its growth was shadowed by daffodils, irises, and lilies that bloomed around it. 

yet despite my oblivion, it came to life:

it buds.

and blooms.

until the flowers overflow.

and in my heart, i begin to look for those ignored places of life. the ones shadowed by other things. the places that look like dead branches in an unforgiving earth. and i hope and wait for the scent of water to come and bring life.  

naming the good

she dared me to name one thousand gifts.  and i tried. kinda. twenty photos of spring happening in the back yard.  seventy written in a notebook and tossed into the abyss of my purse. 

in a late (and likely delusional) conversation, i told a friend about this list that still sat in the bottom of my purse. what if we each blog about something good each week, she asked.  to maybe try to find good amid the chaos of our lives?

this is for those two lovely ladies:

i was greeted at the door by buzz lightyear.  cinderella came running down the hall, still adjusting her elbow-length satin gloves. their beautiful mother offered the hugest hug and ushered me inside.  buzz handed me a gift bag.  we got this for you, he said.   cinderella was on my lap before i landed on the couch.  i re-introduced myself to buzz; we last met when he was only weeks old.  i told cinderella how much she had grown.  buzz helped me unwrap the gift that cinderella had clearly helped pick out.  she may have been more excited about the candy-flavored lipgloss than i was. 

i have our night planned, their beautiful mother told me. we are celebrating. are you hungry?  the answer is always yes if you just de-planed.  

over dinner, we reminisced about our college days - the people who had touched our lives, our adventures, our friendship. 

we remembered the dark ages of our lives since then. unplanned pregnancy. broken relationships. chronic illness. 

and we celebrated. two beautiful children. jobs that bring life. completed education. triumphs over seeming disasters. resilence. hope. gratitude for our persistent friendship and for the faithfulness of god in our lives.