I Chronicle 29:20 “then David said to the assembly, ‘Bless the Lord your God’ and all the assembly blessed the Lord, the God of their fathers, and bowed their heads and paid homage to the Lord God, and their king.”
The other day we came home from our day away, and my dear hubby pointed out these poor little flowers. Take a look at the yellow daffodils in the butterfly garden bed. We planted the bulbs two years ago along the edge of the wings. And this year the weather was so warm the first few weeks of March, that the green shoots came forth. Like some long awaited resurrection day, I thought it was so appropriate that they bloomed the day after Easter.
Bowing their heads to pay homage to the creator, the little blooms seemed to declare, “Oh Lord God thank you for this splendid day. Thank you for giving us air to breathe. Thank you for the warm soil, the cold wind, the moisture in rain and snow. Thank You Lord.” Really now, how could I blame them for choosing such a cold and windy day for bursting forth in color and song to the Great Creator!
Not many days ago I heard a message about being on resurrection ground. Rather than looking at the cemetery as a place where the dead are buried, we should consider the fact that there are many brothers and sisters there waiting to be resurrected. Thus we are standing on resurrection ground. It gave me a whole new thought about being out there placing flowers every spring.
How does this translate into my daily duties? Laundry, cleaning floors, dishes, and house up keep is so very tedious and not fun for me. Yesterday I tried to listen to Rich Mullins music while working only to get irritable and turn off the music. There I times that I think about the days that the music bubbled up inside of me like a spring. And sometimes like Old Faithful it would come gushing forth. I just could not stop the new song from happening. I too am a poet and song writer. The words and music just come. But when there is no outlet, no one to share it with, it begins to die off. Like a fruit tree that never gets pruned, eventually the weight of the fruit breaks the branches and opens the tree up for disease and then it dies.
That’s how I feel. Like a broken down tree over laden with rotting fruit on the ground all around me. The trees bow their heads in the strong winds. Perhaps it’s time to be uprooted once again and planted anew by the springs of living water.
Today is pack up and clean up and final preparations for being gone from home for the next week. So yes, I feel like an uprooted plant. All out of the normal. My greenhouse duties are so pleasant for me. I simply did not want to leave. I actually took a couple of phone calls while in the dome. Back at the house the laundry is moved and the body nourished. I just wish I had the energy that I use to have. Packing for the week might be a laundry basket full of clothes instead of a suitcase. It’s easier.