This vase of love holds hope for blossoms. The cold denies, the sky sleeps a dormant gray, the trees cease to buffer, but the rains anticipate and fill.
Sometimes emptiness feels like death, like possibility–this moment’s breath and joy–has died. When I have clung so deeply to this single bud of hope, I see nothing else. When I can see nothing else, I wither when that single bud eludes me.
Have I chosen this flower, this dear thing, wrongly? Am I never to have a bloom? Should I never choose a thing? Am I to lack joy and survive on the blank sky, asking nothing, hoping for nothing? Am I nothing?
No, God wants me to see my joy come to flower, the joy He put in my heart. There are hundreds of flowers begging to be plucked, but those aren’t for me. God is nurturing a bud for me now. That bud of joy and desire is beyond that hill and God will lead me there. Yes, He wants my hope, my life’s beauty and joy, to come from Him. No number of wreaths and garlands from the world can fulfill me. It is the quiet walk with God that leads me to the one perfect blossom, far more excellent for me than all the others.
I am the LORD your God, who brought you up out of Egypt. Open wide your mouth and I will fill it. Psalm 81:10
Meeting God at the Park 