Early this year, I decided that it is a year for renewal. Maybe I didn't decide, exactly. It was either renew or curl up in a ball and pull the covers over my head. Renew it was.
I think I had this vision of peaceful, serene days of tea sipping, while reading my Bible outdoors in warm breeze. Instead, I've been hurtling myself out of bed at 5:15 and stepping into the cold to get to the gym. (Okay, so that's only Wednesday mornings. The rest aren't so early. And this Wednesday, I didn't even go. But still.) Renewal is work, I'm learning.
Yesterday morning, after a night that consisted of only four hours sleep, I heard the faint chime of bluebells. Still a little early, I thought. Maybe later in the week. A curious thing happened. My husband asked me three times before 7:00 AM if I planned to go to Bull Run. It's curious, I think, because Mike hasn't been to the bluebells in twelve years. It's my favorite place, my favorite time of year. But he doesn't go. The pollen makes him itch something fierce. He's not a big fan of dirt. And there is this thing called work. He spends glorious spring days in an office without windows. Still, he kept persisting in asking me if I was going. Perhaps he thought I needed a Mother Nature Nurture Day?
We went. I called my friend Linda on the way and she met us there. There was much splashing and squealing. There was a funeral for a dead fish and the discovery of a very large dead bird. A little girl who last year rode in an Ergo to hike in to our spot decided that this was her year to climb a tree. Little blonde girls who once got so muddy that they ended up stripped naked in the creek to rinse before going home are now taller than I am. Old tree stumps once used as benches have rotted too much to bear weight. New trees have fallen. Everything has changed.
It is still the place of peace. Still the spot where I know I can go to feel the gentle hand of God touch us all as surely as the afternoon sun and the spring breeze tenderly kiss our faces.
Renewal. It's happening.