The Promise of Spring Evokes Melancholy Thoughts
A Day with my Grandaughter
Becoming a grandparent has been one of the most exciting and fulfilling experiences of my life.
I have been blessed with three beautiful grandchildren, and am fortunate to be able to see them every week.
School holidays are a time of eager anticipation, not only for the children but for me too because I get to spend more time with them and time spent with them equates to hours of fun and entertainment!
It was half term last week and Sophie our youngest grandaughter aged 6 years, spent the day with us.
I could feel spring in the air, the sun was shining, the birds were singing and the sky was blue - it was a beautiful day for a walk.
We set off down the lane, Sophie was skipping and hopping, waving her arms in the air and as she turned round and saw that I was copying all her actions, the air was filled with her laughter. Suddenly the lane became a magical place, where time stands still and the years of life drift away, I felt as young and carefree as her and I wanted to bottle the moment and treasure it for always.
We stopped by the farm and watched the pigs in the mud and gave the ponies some grass and that’s when Sophie spotted some snowdrops.
I told her I knew where there were lots of snowdrops, at the Church just a few minutes away and Sophie said she’d like to see them.
We crouched down by the mass of snowdrops.
“When are they going to come up?” she asked.
“They are already up” I replied.
“No, I didn’t mean that” she said gently taking a flower between her fingers and turning it up to face the sky, “that’s what I mean”
“Oh” finally realising, “they don’t do that, they just hang down”
“Well, I still like them” she replied.
Her words took me back to when I was about Sophie’s age, I was playing on my bike out in the street, when I spotted some snowdrops in someone’s garden.
I thought they were the most beautiful flowers I had ever seen. From the pavement, they were just within my reach, the fact it was my teacher’s garden, didn’t deter me - it was just more than I could resist, I just had to pick one.
I held that snowdrop in my hand as though it was treasure, I was in complete awe of it’s loveliness.
That special moment was short-lived, within minutes I was consumed with guilt, I had stolen something…..
Many years later, I consider myself to have green fingers and can grow just about anything in my garden, but no matter how many times I plant snowdrops they never grow for me.
After every failure I think about my guilty secret….
The Church Yard
Back in the Church yard, Sophie was looking at a headstone, “What does that writing say?”
“It says George”
“Because, when people die their bodies are buried here”
“That’s a big one over there, what does that say?”
“It says James and underneath it says Edith”
“Why does it say two names”
“Because a man is buried there and when his wife died, she was buried there with him”
I read the headstone
One of my favourite scriptures
Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
The Promise of Spring
Snowdrops have always symbolised positive beginnings to me.
Not only do they represent the promise of spring, their appearance demonstrate that seemingly against all the odds, even a small, unpretentious and so delicate a flower can defy the cold, harsh winter.
As a cold wind blew, the snowdrops shook, seemingly shivering in it’s wake, yet defiantly standing tall and bursting into life.
Looking around at the headstones, I was overcome with emotion.
Suddenly life seemed so very precious, I took Sophie’s hand, breathed in the moment and thanked God for the wonderful blessings in my life.
The First Snowdrops
After the dark, gloomy days of winter, I always eagerly await Spring.
When I see the first snowdrops, it always reminds me of that first time, when as a child I stole one from a garden - I wonder if Sophie will remember her first time.....
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