This writing is saving my life right now. When I don’t allow myself to write, to express, to process outside of my body, I will reach an inevitable boiling point and boil over. Or explode. And it isn’t pleasant, nor is it pretty. Kind of gives a new meaning to the phrase, “a watched pot never boils.” If my heart is the pot, giving attention, time, “watching it,” certainly seems to help prevent the boiling. I know that isn’t what the phrase was meant to express, but it makes sense to me, today.
Summer fruit is saving my life right now. Because I’m so rushed and hurried through these days, feeling pursued by endless to-do lists, the steady supply of plump, rosy, succulent fruit that summer brings the satisfaction of the perfect meal in just a small delicious bowl-full. Or a few bowls full. I’m less worried about food yesterday and today, less obsessed with the perfect supper, when there are strawberries, blueberries, cherries, raspberries, peaches, at hand.
The knobby tips of carrots just rounded above the soil, a million nasturtium blossoms crawling everywhere, the damp fuzzy smell of tomato plants, bunches of chamomile and lavender, towering sunflower, bright sunset-colored dahlia blooms, a multitude of roses on the bush that looked like it was dying… Crawling on my knees in the dirt, dislodging brash weeds, trimming back old growth, catching earthworms at work, at play. The garden is saving my life right now. I feel excited, awestruck, larger-than-life, having participated in the sacredness of ongoing creation and recreation of the world. I planted seeds and all this burst forth!
Today is the day of salvation (2 Cor. 6:2)