I’ve written before about that poem, and today I’m thinking about what my soul might look like. I believe it might be like this rose, with pink tips, a glowing white center, and layers and layers of petals, each complicated and imperfect. It is, at least, most like a flower because the general motion of my life has been unfolding. Not onward or downward, not a spiral or a flight, but an unfolding.
When a rose blooms, she gives more–more fragrance, more color, more beauty–and she receives more from the world around her–heat, insects, lingering fingers and noses pressing in to breathe in her loveliness.
I hear my walls crumble and I feel my petals unfolding, like muscles relaxing. I believe this is good. I am surprised to find vulnerability so sound. I want to keeping going. I will trust this process because my eyes are captured by Who they see.
All around me, things call for my attention and they want it now. Not just my attention, but my action. My production of something great. The call of urgency keeps me living paycheck to paycheck, deadline to deadline.
a prophet once said,
in repentance and rest you will be saved
in quietness and trust is your strength
Most that is good and true takes time. A perfect omelet requires slowness and gentleness. A heart that grows into leadership is unshakable. The crock pot beats the microwave every time. A conversation that is allowed to linger ripens into honey.
I am okay with letting things take their course. I will have patience. I will not try to fast forward into an unearned future. I will let my life linger in many ordinary moments and painful stages because of the promise of sweetness.