Dreaming of April

 

This morning, I went out before the sun was over the mountains. The sky was that pinkish-gray color of the doves that are flying every where searching for a suitable place to call home. The grass is filled with diamonds, rubies and sapphires. The greens of the new lacy leaves on the trees, keep my eyes mesmerized by the movement as just a tiny breeze causes the dancing to infuse light into sparkles and the reflections of the golden light that fills the air. As I walked, I thought April is standing off waiting to show us her lovely finery that she wears in the spring.

 

It dawned on me that I always wait for spring to begin in April. March I believe is too flighty to be taken seriously. March, can bring cold winds that blow away the new fruit and flowers too early. But not April.
She brings her gentle rain that quiets the ground so the seeds can have a easier time of coming up because the earth is warming and bringing the smell of spring. Which as I tried to figure out what that wonderful smell is and it just has to be the perfume of blossoms and warming earth and sunshine.

 

Dreaming of April, makes me take stock of my life and how thankful I am to have married in this lovely month. I took my books this morning, even though it is still a bit cold outside to read my Bible and my devotionals. I let my chickens out so they could enjoy this perfect morning. As I sat with my hot coffee in my hand, I thought of that first April when in a few weeks, I would become a bride. Now, almost 36 years later, I can look over the course of my life and what a life it has been. As each decade comes and goes. Each is filled with joy, love, promises, pain and heartache, but all of it is such a lovely tapestry filled with color, vibrancy and always love. I feel so blessed to be given this life of mine. I saw Corrie Ten Boom speak when I was a teenager. As she spoke she said this poem.

    My life is but a weaving
    Between my God and me.I cannot choose the colors
    He weaveth steadily.

    Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow;
    And I in foolish pride
    Forget He sees the upper
    And I the underside.

    Not ’til the loom is silent
    And the shuttles cease to fly
    Will God unroll the canvas
    And reveal the reason why.

    The dark threads are as needful
    In the weaver’s skillful hand
    As the threads of gold and silver
    In the pattern He has planned

    He knows, He loves, He cares;
    Nothing this truth can dim.
    He gives the very best to those
    Who leave the choice to Him.

 

I can still remember sitting there looking at that embroidery, with the knots, the loose thread not really seeing how the design looked from the back. Then as she turned it over there was the bright colors of the golds, the silvers and the blues and of course the dark threads that gave the outline of the design. As I sat there as a teenager, already my life was full of dark threads, but for me that tapestry spoke of the good that God was allowing in my life even then. Now, with most of my life over now, I see how God has used those dark threads to define me and give me color and purpose. What I find is that because of those dark threads, each day I am given now becomes that more precious.

 

Dreaming of April, makes me dream of her finery that she wears and invites me to dance with her in the sun.
When we got married, Ron wrote a song to sing at our wedding. The words that are my favorite, are, " Who knows how deep in love we fell... Thirty-Six years later, I find the word love to be too small to define what we have now. Living with someone who has seen me at every stage of my body. Who has been with me at every gift God has given, at every joy, every triumph. Not to mention this unexplained part of my life known as menopause.
Of all of the things we have accomplished in our life, the thing I find what I am most proud of is that we never gave up. Even those days we couldn't stand to be in the same room with each other. This part of life as the poem by Robert Browning says it best. "
“Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in his hand who saith, 'A whole I planned, youth shows but half; Trust God: See all, nor be afraid!”

I didn't start out to write this, but as you know sometimes blogs write themselves. I dedicate this blog today to our children who have lots of life ahead of them. Lots of challenges and tests. I want them to know that no matter what, never give up because the best is yet to be. You will make it through this trial. I promise.


I love you,
Mom