Rebirth
Psalm 19
The heavens declare the glory of God,
and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.
2 Day to day pours out speech,
and night to night reveals knowledge.
3 There is no speech, nor are there words,
whose voice is not heard.
In my yard, something is always blooming.
Just before I stop noticing the exquisiteness of one plant or the moment I become sad about its wilted bloom, another beauty announces itself.
The
boys and I planted some seeds to contribute to our ongoing beauty, and
as a precursor to a garden endeavor, some pepper plants to promote eating
fresh. It was fun to play in the dirt together. It felt good to have
that caked dirt on my hands, for a few days impossible to remove from my
cracked fingers.
And I planted phlox.
It's something I've always wanted in my yard. It's fragrant, delicate, and easy-to-grow. Many species creep, overtaking the garden. In Greek, phlox means "flame." I guess I've always wanted my garden to resemble a meadow, or maybe I want the flame-flower to bring to mind another favorite Gerard Manly Hopkins' poem:
As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies dráw fláme;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves—goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying Whát I do is me: for that I came
The first section of this thick Petrarchan sonnet postulates the condition of all things--we "announce ourselves" just as each new beauty in my garden surprises me. Or to be more precise, using the verb coined by Hopkins: we do who we are-- we show our individuality. . .each living thing "selves." We cry: "Here I am! See me!"
We have been created with this longing to express. . .a yearning to share. . .to do, to be what it is we were created to be, to do. Our heart cries out to be who we are.
This is not accomplished in isolation. The poem by Wordsworth, "She dwelt among the untrodden ways" speaks of "A violet by a mossy stone/half hidden from the eye!" whose loss, though mostly unknown, was no less devastating as the flower represented his dear Lucy. Even a half-hidden flower "speaks and spells" itself to someone.
But Hopkins is not finished. The volta suggests more:
I say more: the just man justices;
Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is —
Christ. For Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men’s faces.
Those who have been saved by grace--keep grace by being Christ--lovely bodies and souls to bring His message of love and redemption to those hurt, lost, dying, broken.
"When you were dead in your sins and in the uncircumcision of your sinful nature, God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins, having canceled the written code, with its regulations, that was against us and that stood opposed to us; he took it away, nailing it to the cross." (Colossians 2:13-14)
That is the Good News, my friend. The Spring of the soul: We can be made whole, alive, reborn, regenerated.
The beauty of Spring flowers makes me wonder at Creation and rejoice in re-creation. And the flowers' fragrance soothes.
I inhale the scent of phlox slowly just before I enter the house, smiling as it brings to mind Grandmama Sawyer's powdery smell. Scent triggers emotion and memory just as the aroma of country-fried steak, fried okra, and cornbread makes me feel the comfort of Grandmama Martin's, and now my mother's, kitchen wrap around me like a handmade quilt.
Our lives, too, can be fragrant--a reminder of His love:
"But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him." (2 Corinthians 2:14)
Lord, let me be like phlox. Fill me with the beauty of Spring and make Christ lovely in me.
The heavens declare the glory of God,
and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.
2 Day to day pours out speech,
and night to night reveals knowledge.
3 There is no speech, nor are there words,
whose voice is not heard.
In my yard, something is always blooming.
And I planted phlox.
It's something I've always wanted in my yard. It's fragrant, delicate, and easy-to-grow. Many species creep, overtaking the garden. In Greek, phlox means "flame." I guess I've always wanted my garden to resemble a meadow, or maybe I want the flame-flower to bring to mind another favorite Gerard Manly Hopkins' poem:
As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies dráw fláme;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves—goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying Whát I do is me: for that I came
The first section of this thick Petrarchan sonnet postulates the condition of all things--we "announce ourselves" just as each new beauty in my garden surprises me. Or to be more precise, using the verb coined by Hopkins: we do who we are-- we show our individuality. . .each living thing "selves." We cry: "Here I am! See me!"
We have been created with this longing to express. . .a yearning to share. . .to do, to be what it is we were created to be, to do. Our heart cries out to be who we are.
This is not accomplished in isolation. The poem by Wordsworth, "She dwelt among the untrodden ways" speaks of "A violet by a mossy stone/half hidden from the eye!" whose loss, though mostly unknown, was no less devastating as the flower represented his dear Lucy. Even a half-hidden flower "speaks and spells" itself to someone.
But Hopkins is not finished. The volta suggests more:
I say more: the just man justices;
Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is —
Christ. For Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men’s faces.
Those who have been saved by grace--keep grace by being Christ--lovely bodies and souls to bring His message of love and redemption to those hurt, lost, dying, broken.
"When you were dead in your sins and in the uncircumcision of your sinful nature, God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins, having canceled the written code, with its regulations, that was against us and that stood opposed to us; he took it away, nailing it to the cross." (Colossians 2:13-14)
That is the Good News, my friend. The Spring of the soul: We can be made whole, alive, reborn, regenerated.
The beauty of Spring flowers makes me wonder at Creation and rejoice in re-creation. And the flowers' fragrance soothes.
I inhale the scent of phlox slowly just before I enter the house, smiling as it brings to mind Grandmama Sawyer's powdery smell. Scent triggers emotion and memory just as the aroma of country-fried steak, fried okra, and cornbread makes me feel the comfort of Grandmama Martin's, and now my mother's, kitchen wrap around me like a handmade quilt.
Our lives, too, can be fragrant--a reminder of His love:
"But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him." (2 Corinthians 2:14)
Lord, let me be like phlox. Fill me with the beauty of Spring and make Christ lovely in me.
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye! - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/21566#sthash.P5hXWlqW.dpuf
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye! - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/21566#sthash.P5hXWlqW.dpuf
That is so true about the triggers of scent. We must surround ourselves with beauty that nurses all the senses. You would not believe how my mood is improved when I visit the new house (not quite finished yet). There's some kind of fragrant tree in the front yard, so I'm almost knocked over by its sweetness when I step out of the car. And inside the house, I've used all these wild paint colors that speak to me and put me in the best mood. I'm always burning candles, and drinking flavored coffee---things that wake up my senses. And music. I wish I could play it loudly, but it's always a conflict with what someone else wants to listen to (TV, talking, etc.)
ReplyDeleteAnyway, how I do ramble! Now what are the purple flowers? I love them. And I know nothing about plants. I can't ever identify them. Except magnolias, azaleas, and wisteria. :)
Your new house sounds (and smells :) so wonderful. I'm so happy you will have a place that feels home to you. I feel that way about this house from the 20s that we live in now.
ReplyDeleteThe purple ones are phlox and they can be blue, pink or white too. Blues are my most favorite.