Have you ever experienced the timeless satisfaction of scattering seed? A bowling club sits opposite the window of my nursing clinic room; through it I can see a man in his 50’s utterly relaxed in his pleasure of sowing new grass seed onto the
patches worn bare by winter’s games.
Winter has a way of sucking out strength and health from the vibrant growths of summer and spring. As the swirling turbulent storms and dull skies depress our best intentions, we remember that winter is not
a time for growth (at least not on the outside). However, blessedly, it is a time for soaking in the rain.
Winter is a time for drawing up the moisture resting in the land, a time to mature on the inside ready to scatter seed into the empty soil of
other’s lives come spring. Our winter chills can feed the growth of illnesses through the confined spaces and closed doors we occupy to shut out the gloom. Behind these closed doors it is a time to prune.
This year has been such a change in my
life. Never before have I written (except on the odd occasion I have been too mad at my hubby to express myself well in voice). This year I feel pruned. I am sure I will look back on these posts in a few years and cringe at my immaturity and my heart on my
sleeve attitude, but I still feel honored that He thinks me worth pruning. It makes me excited to think what might blossom for Him, and how well my flowers will follow the Son.
A chest x-ray has confirmed that my daughter, Essence, has pneumonia. Her
delightful brave smile still beams at me when the raging fever gives her a moments rest. I have not had much sleep from listening to her breathing. She is only at home because we are equipped to look after her, and the hospital was happy to discharge her into
the care of a GP.
I must stop these introspective posts and get back to rewriting my story.