I took a walk this morning. I was in a -don't get in my way-storming the bridge- kind of walk. Brisk and no-nonsense. You can't stop and talk to anyone anyway. Or at least I can't. Six feet is difficult to those with hearing impairments. So the best I can do is smile, say, "hi, how ya doin" and keep walking without listening for a response. But this morning, I barely met anyone. I needed to clear my head of myself and my "woes". I needed to just breathe and walk. Until, that is, I got to a tree that I had taken a picture of to show my mom. Its delicate white flowers had suddenly burst forth and I wanted her to see it. I forgot what kind of tree it was, so I took a picture today of the name plate in front of it. I live within the confines of an arboretum so all these trees and things are marked. And as I was taking a picture of the nameplate, I noticed the daffodils nearby. I took a few more steps and the guy who empties the trash canisters in the area, asked (from a distance of course), "are you taking pictures of flowers?" "Uh, yeah, I guess" I replied sounding, I'm sure, like a country hick. He pointed me to a flowering bush which smelled lightly of lemons. I didn't see a plaque for this, but I took a picture anyway and thanked him for pointing it out.
Okay, I thought, enough dilly-dallying. Get walking. I had gotten up to a pretty good clip when I spied another flowering bush. A forsythia. It's glorious yellow fronds simply dripping with flowers. I stopped to take another picture. And then I came to a flowering tree. And well, I have to admit I stopped. It wasn't so glorious or even outstanding in anything. Except...think of this: it's springtime and we're all cloistered away, huddled in our houses. And outside this abundance of God's presence is exploding all around us. The honeybees were joyously going from flower to flower, and as much as I can't stand squirrels, they were there cavorting from tree to ground to tree again. The sky was blue and I had on a light jacket, not a heavy winter coat anymore.
We need to be reminded, in this scary, distancing time, that God is with us. In the flowering trees and bushes. In the phone call or 700 texts from friends (you know who you are!). In even the hurried "hi, how are you" from the guy emptying the trash receptacles. I don't know why he hasn't scoured the earth clean or done away with all stupid, spouting talking heads. But I do know that we are not alone in all this. And I keep asking, when will this be done. And the answer is: when it is. So please, remember that God is there with you, hunkered down and shivering though you may be. And go outside and breathe the fresh air and see the wondrous world awakening. And stay healthy. Amen