photo by neil e. das

~Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love.~ psalm 107

Some days we can't seem to see far beyond the night. The darkness threatens to overcome us. I find myself always coming back to this, to whatever happens during the waiting of the long winter. To the quiet, sustaining, faithful love that keeps us all together. The glow of the houses, gold against the blue twilight. Branches creaking and bowing under the ice and snow, the howl of the wind. The promise of things at work, deep under the surface, the faith in things unseen.

This year the seasons are measured not by events, but in the counting of weeks. We are now to twenty-six. A few days ago I saw the wee baby spinning and spinning in the womb, held fast in a photograph the nurse took as he or she took a perfect pike position with feet over the head, sitting all to one side in my lop-sided belly. Hello, love.

We dream of spring, trying to be contented with the breathtaking blue sky and ice covered trees shining in the high, cold light. The sliver of winter moon and sharp stars. Even quieter than usual, quieter than ever before, we find poetry in the stillness of the long nights. In the hush of snow on the lawns and streets and roofs. We all hunker down, drink some tea, and wait. Trying to remember that eventually there will be the thaw of the brown earth, and first green buds that now hibernate safely under the surface. Through the weeks we are moving slowly along with the fears and joys and sorrows, remembering to give thanks and wait patiently for signs of spring, and to pray for who we will meet and and to surrender to the one who guides who we will become.