Spring Thoughts From My Journal
It’s been a wet and windy day in Northern California and I’ve been in our new home for just over a year and a half. I’ve noticed in certain conditions, this season especially, dewy rainbows hug our area with the green, sloping hills in the far distance. I’ve been on a Spring cleaning and organizing binge as part of celebrating hopeful new beginnings with my fiction, making ready for dreams to take root. My children are also growing at alarming rates, one popped up a whole shoe size in a month and his voice dropped two octaves right after Christmas. I’m determined to get us living more simply and catch up in a move that didn’t go well and has meant more work to help us feel settled.
I wanted to give my husband a new filing system, or the beginnings of it, for Valentine’s Day. We also did something romantic, but he knows this one is hard. Paperwork, since the wildfires and years of insurance work, has been more than a chore. It stirs memories I’d be content to leave as ashes and would rather push aside. But just like a fireplace, it needs cleaning at some point. So I’ve had my mind and hands in memories from early years, wonderful, really. But also in medical receipts and pages showing how much furniture our movers lost. Not my favorite.
But then I look out the window at the lovely green hills. And a dim rainbow has been dancing there all afternoon while I have been putting things in order. We’ve had so many rainbows, I’ve really enjoyed them and can almost predict when they’ll show up.
Today, however, when I saw the gently fuzz of a rainbow—not quite crisp and clear—almost like it was hovering just outside my window, it felt like a very personal smile from above. Where I feel frustration, God sees potential. A mistake I unfold that grieves my heart, to Him is more like spilled coffee and easily righted with some effort. I’m enveloped in mystery as the hues shimmer dimly while raindrops tenderly fall, winds gust in the palm trees, and the hills look even more vibrant against a gray sky.
The weather has been so ugly today, I’ve barely been outside except to take bags to the trash. I was all ready to put my own wellness in the can when the rainbow hills called. They soothed my weary heart. They smiled at me, giving me strength, like The Cat In The Hat drawings I found from when Jonathan was five years old. And misspelled notes of love from my youngest when everything had about five E’s that looked more like combs than a letter of the alphabet.
Yesterday we took a drive and stopped by a glorious almond grove, where I briefly (since it was 30 degrees outside!!) danced beneath the pretty blossoms. The honey-floral scent filled the air very gently. The pretty blossoms tickled my nose as I leaned in to enjoy it fully. My kids laughed watching me but they’re used to my pursuit of beauty. To my search for the dance of hope.
We also drove by frosted mountains, capped with a sprinkling of snow. We fell silent watching the hills graced by snow, knowing there will be acres of wonderful wildflowers there in coming weeks.
Seeing all the beauty gives me more room to breathe and remember the scope of life and what’s truly important. It’s so delightful.
Today I’m editing in a tiny coffee shop where a barista with a lovely accent from Brazil is singing and I’m smiling in a cozy corner by a flowering bush next to a large picture window letting in the gentle morning light. A half-wall hides me but I can see each customer coming in. She greets them with personal welcome, and her wonderful accent rolling off the tongue. She is gifted at making every delicious coffee and pastry sound so special.
With a tiny bit of perspective, I can see why the hard things have been difficult to deal with. The sun after days of rain, has been so glorious. The blossoms, in valleys that have survived years of sun-baked drought are producing gorgeous potential. The mountains hold their own secrets after all the snow melts. And so do I. I’ve survived a few tricky times and deeper wounds. I’ve had loss and yet can see the hope in each delicious breath of honey-baked hope in the orchard, and the stunning grace of mountain tops and a few flowers peeking out around the edges now and then. I’m so excited for all that’s to come.
Thanks for coming along on the journey!
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