beauty – Becoming and Beholding

I saw some unusual flowers yesterday

which bloomed in unexpected ways.

Their beauty ignited my heart

and blessed me with renewed vision.

Witnessing a perfect glow can do that –

it connects us to what is real

and true.

We color the world with so many hues –

the seasons directing the light

and filling the wide spectrum perfectly.

Sometimes the necessary germination before

the the colors can be expressed

takes time –

and that is by design.

For a full bloom

cannot be forced prematurely.

To be a flower

means being present to

the light being born in you

in its own time.

Your bloom will arrive in its fullness,

according to the Gardener’s plan.

Therefore, rest in the truth of the sunrise

and be soothed by the rain.

Wait your turn.

Your job is to allow the glow to be born in you

and to trust in the promised opening.

For part of the beauty of it all

is that the timing of your full flowering is not up to you…

It is perfectly fine and beautiful still

to be a late bloomer.

Photo credit by Gary Stanton, taken at Heritage Museums and Gardens in Sandwich, MA.

My heart is working hard these days

with loss and loneliness.

I am an orphan seeking home.

The grief of moving through the landscape which

is my life

tugs at the ways I have

stitched myself together.

This waking up is painful –

but as I move forward,

I open my heart to it.

It is a time of deepening –

of allowing the mystery to instruct

and show me

the location of my true belonging.

The older I get,

the more acquainted I am

with this type of deep reckoning.

It is familiar terrain and

I have visited it often.

When I look back, I can see this.

But in this moment,

choosing to be present

feels like valor.

I gradually take on the challenge

as little pieces of me mend.

I begin to hear again the

warm and forgiving invitation.

It calls to me like

a song over the hillside,

sending music to my ears and heart.

I allow this embrace of mystery which

wells up within my very soul.

This is the place which

connects me to the beauty of it all

and the realization of belonging.

I find my way home again

and I learn to dwell in a sweet peace.

I dare to hold everything –

all the precious pain and longing.

Thanksgiving visits me –

I am surprised as it wells up like a wave

and invites me to rest in a beautiful tenderness.

This is Life and Grace

given and received.

They had never left.

“Secret work is being done in us of which we have no inkling.” John O’Donahue

Tag: beauty

Late Bloomer

That Part of Me