It goes without saying there need to be moments in each of our personal lives that are truly uplifting in order to sustain us for the pandemic headlines that are simply dreadful. This morning I awoke to the news from New Orleans, and it rips at the heart. There are no words to adequately sum up the feelings of seeing so many infected and dying in one of our historic cities.
I ate a late breakfast Thursday, read the papers, had coffee and once fortified with carbohydrates and news of the day took to the lawn to continue springtime work. Such activity allows my mind to calm down. With my mp3 player lifting my spirits and putting a sprint in my steps the small tasks of the day were soon accomplished. James and I had a splendid and productive outing.
In this time of self-distancing, we now call a productive outing escaping to the lawn, flower beds, and area surrounding our home. It is there that today we saw the exact opposite of what greeted us all when waking and turning on the news. The new growth, small colorful blooms, rabbits about to give birth, daffodils just hours from showcasing their grandeur, robins tracking worms and carrying off dead grass for home-building, and a sun that rises higher and warms more deeply. All those things I noted.
But they were more than noted, but rather allowed to really enter my senses and take hold. I did not just glance at things but stared for a while at new blooms. I even bent to the ground to find if the scilla had a scent. They did not but the ground had a moist mulch-like smell. In this time when it appears that the earth has wobbled on its axis, it seems essential to slow down and take stock of what we are appreciative of and note it.
There is no way to predict what is to happen tomorrow let alone make plans for August or the fall. The big plans in life are on hold. Folks wonder now about how to get groceries safely and make sure they have plastic gloves in the car so not to touch the gas nozzle when at the service station.
But even with so much that we are scared by, and stressed over concerning the headlines there is also hope to be seen, if we just look for it. But once seeing it we also need to take the time to allow it to enter into our being. The new flower shoots and animal activity give us a lesson that we need to grasp now more than ever before, as we have never in our lifetime lived an event as we are now doing.
But there is always hope. We may not think we see it right now. But the blooms that now appear were from plants under crunchy snow only weeks ago, and the rabbits were huddled under bushes trying to make it through bitterly frigid nights. They are small examples of hope, perhaps. But they convey a big and important message.
There is hope. There is always hope for tomorrow.