Encouragement During the Down Times

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I was in the midst of sorrowing, my heart unhappy and sad. An unusual occurrence made the day brighter. I share it with you. From 2008.

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A dried out baby rose in a clear vase sits with several companion blooms in a dark corner. For close to a month they sat on my kitchen counter until I relegated them to the top shelf of a bookcase out of sight. They signified a memory meaningful only to me and were losing some of their beauty.  Once in awhile, I would look at the tiny blossoms, fragile petals in variegated pink hues, the last bouquet from a friend whom had been dear to me.

A glance would transport me back to better days when life seemed to have more promise, more joy.

Over the course of the ensuing months, on occasion I would look at the roses to see if there were any changes or if they should be cast in the awaiting waste basket.  They remained the same, still-life, heads down.  I couldn’t bring myself to toss them out.  I missed my friend, a sliver of sorrow would clutch my heart, and I wished life had given a different outcome.

Then one day as I finished having a lengthy time alone with God and was getting ready to go on with my day, a heaviness in my heart making the day seem dark, when something arrested my attention.  A small whisper came to me, entering into my thoughts, “Go look at the flowers.”  I gathered myself from the place where I sat and entered the room.  The dried roses were there, the same as always.  Nothing had changed.  I walked closer to them, carefully removing the vase off the high shelf as I looked intently at the dried petals.

I noticed some dust particles and a few miniscule webs crisscrossing their delicate heads.

The whisper spoke again and said,See the one that’s not drooping down?  Look at it.  Sure enough, there was one rose in the center of the bouquet with its dried blossom looking out and slightly up.  The other roses were drooping in quiet deadness. Its name is Hope.”  The thought quickly framed itself in my mind, and I focused on that one uplifted bloom reaching high to elevate its head.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I gently replaced the vase.  “Flowers having names?” the question floated through my thoughts.  “Do you think the Creator names His creations?” I mused to myself as I returned to my tasks.  My spirits lifted, and I felt lighter.  I was encouraged by a dried up little flower that had the good fortune to be named, Hope. Its message became mine. There is always hope. 

Throughout the day I thought about hope, hope during those times when we are in need, and hope when all is right in our lives.

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Today I needed its strength, its reminder.  My eyes searched for it, rested a moment, to see its little face looking up. Reassured, I went on with my day, a small element of peace settling my feelings of discomfort. Yes, it offers me a small blessing in the complicated thoughts of my day.  I am thankful for my little gift, my encourager that helps me refocus when hard moments come my way. I still have my vase of blooms, one move and six years later.

Hope is a sweet blessing who never loses her hope.

THE HERMIT BIRD’S SONG: Echoes of Heaven on Earth (Abbey of New Clairvaux, 2006)

 It’s not often that one reads a book by a hermit monk. I purchased this book from the book store at the Abbey of New Clairvaux in Vina, California. It is a delightful read for the person who enjoys meditative writings. Reflective prayers and poetry, many in haiku style, are written like a prayer journal with 114 separate entries. The author uses expressive language to highlight the beauty of what it is to live in close relationship with the Divine. The content includes references to many spiritual concepts: the Incarnation, the Holy Trinity, the love of God, and what it means to have a heart for God.

One of the mysteries that people debate, what it is to talk with God in an interactive voice, is presented in the form of a prayer written directly to God. We are allowed a few glimpses into the monk’s thought life. I enjoyed reading these reflections in the evening as a way to end my day on a positive note. It was comforting and a blessing. I am not of the Catholic tradition, but it didn’t matter.

The Hermit Monk’s perceptions enhanced the book’s message. Bits of the Hermit Monk’s life and history are included. He was a theology student at the Abbey of Gethsemani in Kentucky during the time of Thomas Merton’s hermitage. If you have read Seven Storey Mountain or other of Merton’s writings, that little fact is interesting to ponder.