A Spring Secret

Much to my children’s chagrin, we have been taking countless walks lately.  Yesterday, we stepped outside our garage and were greeted by a host of tulips finally opening their orange, yellow, and red blooms.  They all opened in one day.  The day before everything was closed and colorless and the rains pelted down.  It ruined evenings, drenching the ground, and many unprepared bodies.  Then, just as we were cursing the weather for taking such a tumultuous turn, spring took center stage and we realized that the old adage sometimes holds true: April showers bring May flowers.  Don’t correct me.  I know it’s not May.  I’m making an analogy here, buddy, so it’s ok if the details are not exact. Think you can be ok with that?  Ok good.  Sorry for lashing out.  I like you, I just don't appreciate the criticism.  Anyway, my point is that the last couple of years haven’t been the easiest on me.  Maybe they haven’t been on you either.  I wish I could say that all of my troubles melted away in one day, like the monochromatic grey of winter vanished yesterday, but troubles will sneak in, here and there, even in spring, even in summer.  However, they have been the lifeblood to my creativity, my understanding, and my appreciation for all things good.  I know now that sometimes the rains will pour, right in the middle of the best damn picnic you have ever had.  The wine was poured, the sandwiches stacked, and the mouths anticipating their due bounty, but then that one drop that we willed away turned into a downpour that we simply couldn’t ignore.  The rains will stop, my friends.  I wish I could tell you that spring will turn into summer and never turn again, but it will keep turning.  Life will bring winter.  Storms will come, but the best advice I can give: don’t run inside. Don’t seek cover.  Open your arms wide and turn your head toward the sky.  Open your mouth and voraciously drink in what is trying to destroy you.  There is beauty in the most ferocious storm.  You all know I have struggled with health issues.  I am so happy to say that the worst is over, for now...  I know that sounds daunting, but I say it having been revealed a secret.  I hold it tight and I hesitate to share, because it’s my secret, damn it, and I worked hard for it, but fine, you dressed up today, and I am pretty sure you said please, so I’ll let you in on it.  Once you know, we can start a club or something, I don’t know.  Great pain reveals mundane joy.  It allows you to appreciate the small, unimportant, tiny blossoms of beautiful moments that you brushed aside before.  You breathe them all in like the scent of the dogwoods all blooming at once.  You cherish them, because, the truth is, we don’t know when the petals will fall or when the rains may come, but for now, in this moment, life is radiant.  Also, enjoy the grey, understanding all the potential it holds for vibrant color to be painted.  Don’t give up.  Don’t despair, my friends.  Love is out there.  Spring is out there and you are not alone.

“For behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone.

The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.” - Song of Solomon 2:11-12