Heavy, dark and wet days
Where all of life seems dreary
Keeps us cacooned, restless.
Weary of the rain,
We sit and bundle onto the couch wrapped in each other’s embrace,
Faces turned towards the failing light,
Looking for hope.
Sometimes this is enough.
Dreaming of crisp days filled with falling leaves
Brown, orange and gold –
Perhaps getting older is not such a sadness
But a story to be told.
I look into your faces and see my own growing vision –
Thoughts of puddles, wet and muddy
Of wellie boots, strewn untidily across the hall
And all the curiosity of youth
Is captured in the soggy socks and collected sticks and rocks.
My dreams of excited voices
Longing to discover all life has to offer
Vibrant in enthusiasm –
Gives birth to new creativity.
Perhaps days spent together
Avoiding forced separation
Could really work?
No coercion needed to cuddle or climb a tree,
Learning happens naturally.
All of life available for discovery,
Unlimited by timetables
Or fears of being unable to keep up –
Not put up with but cherished,
I can grow too,
Uncovering with you the secrets God had tucked away,
For us to play and find,
An Almighty treasure hunt
With no one to mind the ambling pace.
Grace is revealed
Through breathing in rhythm with Him.
If we plant in his house, we will flourish –
Growing towards the light
And flowering open,
Right at the heart of our home
Loved into life.
Perhaps we shall try it….