Possibilities . . .

We've recently moved.  We love our new (very old) house, and part of the fun of starting over is discovering all of the pieces of the picture that unfold with each new day.  I will admit, it being a house built in 1930, some of the surprises are not all together happy ones; but many of them are!  It's fun seeing little glimpses of the past or watching what comes up in the yard as different weather makes its way here.

This morning, as I headed out with Sadie for our walk, I loved seeing all of the fall blooms that emerged overnight.  I couldn't help but smile, wondering who planted the bush?  What were they going through at the time it was planted?  How long did they imagine it might bring smiles?  Etc., etc., etc.

If you've read this blog for any length of time at all, you know that my brain works like that.  I like wondering.  I like imagining.  And . . . well, I like flowers that bloom overnight without my help!

I was delighted by the blooms, I was.  As I walked, though,  I realized I was actually more delighted by something else - something not as beautiful, but more giving, I believe.  (I hope no former English teachers are reading this - I'm well aware there were some rule breaks in the former sentence.  That's the way I wanted, though.  So there.)

What delighted me most - what brought me the most hope - was the bountiful number of buds.  The bush is laden with buds too many to count.  That means flower after flower after flower, for days and days.  That means that as we begin to don our jackets and sweaters, we are promised the gifts of blooms and blooms.  I love that!

I spent the rest of my walk considering the gifts of possibilities.  I wondered how many I pass by and don't notice.  I wondered how many times I see the picture right in front of my face but fail to notice and wonder about the possibilities hanging all around.

What other possibilities are out there?  Are you missing any?

List Thirteen - Five things to consider on Good Friday

1. This is a strange day, and my children always ask the smart question . . . "Why is Good Friday good?"  There are many explanations for why Christians call this day good, but I tend go with the one that explains how early modern English used the word good to mean holy.  I like that explanation.  And far more than that, I am thankful for all that this weekend means.  I'm thankful for the many ways that my Christianity allows me to begin again and over again every day.  I'm thankful that I am given Holy Week each and every year to prepare for Easter, and I am eternally grateful for all of the ways that I KNOW that Easter is about way more than a new dress and great chocolate candy.  
2. If you have never participated in a foot washing celebration, I wish you would force yourself to sometime or another.  Every Maundy Thursday, I dread going to the service; and every year I am so glad that I did.
3. Spend some time today and tomorrow considering new life, beginnings, starting fresh.  Sometimes this holiday is hard to really think about when there are too many plastic eggs around, so maybe we can use them as props.  Hold an egg (plastic or real), study a bird's nest on your porch, take a moment to stare into the face of a child or concentrate on one of the fresh blooms in your yard - then spend a while feeling thankful.
4. Try finding out something about how someone different celebrates in the springtime - it's always interesting to hear how very much alike we all are.
5. Get in your car.  Roll the windows down.  Listen to The Indigo Girls - Southland in the Springtime.  Proceed smiling.  (Please don't ever tell me if you do not like that song.)

A thoughtful and thankful Good Friday to you, friends.   And may you get to sing happy Easter songs all day on Sunday.