Cow Parsley

Cow Parsley in my garden

Hello and welcome.

With arms folded together warmly offering the gesture of a hug. Not skin to skin. Yet heart to heart. It’s the season we are in. Let’s close the month of May with joy.

Now unto the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be honour and glory for ever and ever. Amen

The hedgerows are afroth with the white floral headed white wild plant.

We have a large amount of the said lace up in the top of our garden.

I’ve watched the wonderful wild of it flourish in the closing of spring.

The way it nods and bends so gracefully the white lace-like head and its stem thickly set. It inspired me, musing over the way it was speaking a kind of proverb. A common sense. A trust. A way of being. A human right. A created favour. A narrative of joy.

A kind of word in this season. The way beauty and identity spin themselves into reality or get discarded totally.

I sipped my little mug of coffee, deliberately slowing and observing the plant as it moved. The breeze bowing the the heads, gracefully and softly, bending one way and then the other. The tenderness and kindness of it. A language of beauty. Of gentleness.

Yet so firmly fixed. Secured, unperturbed by the movement or change of direction.

It’s identity. its way of being. Freedom.

One thats won for us. One that is ours to embrace.

The bending in with the wind.

The joy. The holding of my attention.

We are named. We are celebrated with the stars.

We bend and break with our resistance. An unknown battle wars.

We hold the truth but dont always see it. We forget. We don’t hold that slow long silence long enough. The way we can sway with the wind. The way we can display glory in our season. We die. We cry. We forget our benefits.

We need to lean in more. We need to know the creator of us more. We need.

I felt the spiral again. The undeniable lostness.

I quietened my spirit. Slowing the ongoing circle of tasks, that driven way of being.

Sitting on the ordinary old gold sofa I found that moment.

From an honest heart and the vulnerability and the courage and the desire, it was then the breeze came in. Gently and quietly.

Her place. Her identity. Her joy.

etched for the stone of remembrance

God whispers gently in the quiet as the train rumbles by

I’m lifting you to the top of the pile.

My value over yours. He said.

Let me etch the words as stones of remembering. The way I’m really loved. The way the losses and the ache give place for His Presence. Christ our Saviour is the best filling for fullness and completeness inside the empty slots.

What are those words. What is that image. what is the passion of hope for me, for you.

One that holds the sway of life.

One that shows our very being as loved.

Be still and know. Me

Remember to slow and listen and bend with the breeze. He holds all the truth you need to hear.

Listen.

Love Rach x

nature whispers