The prompt is bloom, which makes me chuckle because well, I haven't blogged in a while so the idea of writing FOR my blog and not for a professor is both incredible and also seems like maybe I've forgotten how.
Bloom though. Back to that.
Last year was last year. It's been written about. It happened. Then the season of rest happened, a season where God just bandaged and bandaged and let me heal. He quieted me and calmed me and changed me and reminded me that not only was His grace sufficient, His love was too.
So then this year. This season. It's bloom. What else is it but that? It's the spring buds popping up after a long winter, refreshing the spirit and cleaning the dust.
This season is singing loudly, dancing wildly, laughing until my belly hurts and all the things.
It's deep feeling, learning what it means to simultaneously rejoice with the rejoicing whilst also mourn with the mourning. That's a delicate dance I'm desperately wanting to dance well. Both mourn and rejoice, sometimes in the same moment. Because I'm sure Jesus would have.
This is the season of bloom. It's the brightest I can remember. It's my favourite to date.
In church we sang Desert Song on Sunday and gosh I remembered all the times when all the hard parts of that song rang true.
But this time I knew my line. It came at the end.
This is my prayer in the harvest (in the bloom), where favour and providence flow.
I know I'm filled to be emptied again, this seed I've received I will sow.
Amen. Amen.
