Saturday after Ash Wednesday
Oh Lord my God, I cried out to you,
and you restored me to health.
Psalm 30:2
I look out on the red buds of the maple tree outside my window and wonder how they will fare tonight. The weather has turned cold after an unusually warm week for this time of year. Last night the temperature dropped well below freezing. Tonight will be even colder. What protection do these buds have? Has the Creator built into their genetic code the kind of resilience they will need? I simply do not know enough about botany.
Many mornings I test the tenderness of my own soul, gently probing for bruises left by the previous day’s encounters with hardship. And I have learned to seek for the resilience there as well. For pliability and strength. Suppleness and durability. Toughness and compassion. I have learned to trust that God does not leave me without resources or recourse. And that restoration takes many forms.
Resilient. The word means leaping back. To be able to spring back into shape. I pray that this day I will place myself once again in the arms of God, whose word called me into being, in whose image I am lovingly made.
Many mornings I test the tenderness of my own soul, gently probing for bruises left by the previous day’s encounters with hardship. And I have learned to seek for the resilience there as well. For pliability and strength. Suppleness and durability. Toughness and compassion. I have learned to trust that God does not leave me without resources or recourse. And that restoration takes many forms.
Resilient. The word means leaping back. To be able to spring back into shape. I pray that this day I will place myself once again in the arms of God, whose word called me into being, in whose image I am lovingly made.
