This past two months have been anything but restful -- essay-marking, the loss of a dear pet, exam-marking, "holidays" (I told my son the break was more a verb than a noun), illness, a birthday, a new course to teach, Internet problems, and much more. On top of this, I've been feeling for the past two weeks or so as though the Lord was very far away. In some ways I take this as a good sign: a) He trusts me with His silence, and b) I've begun to realize how little I know Him and how little I understand how to know Him, which is a perfect, perfect starting place.
Last night He used something very unexpected to remind me what we are to each other. Today began sweetly, but much of the day spun away into fruitlessness. I was tempted to begin berating myself, but instead I came upstairs to see what might be salvaged of this evening.
...And then I saw it. It's still there, so I will try, in well under a thousand words, to convey to you what my camera would have told you:
In the corner of the study window... a summer bouquet. On this bitterly icy January night, when courage is hard to find and my heart is full of the pain of the world.... a lace-wrapped nosegay of white ferns, daisies, lilies, and glads, all sparkling in the light of a nearby streetlamp.
My dearest, most marvellous Love has hand-delivered flowers to me. He may have even thrown in a wee butterfly or two, to say "winter is short -- our summer will be forever."
It will be indeed, Jesus.