"See! The winter is past;
the rains are over and gone.
12
Flowers appear on the earth;
the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves
is heard in our land.
13
The fig tree forms its early fruit;
the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling;
my beautiful one, come with me.”
~Song of Solomon 1:11-13
Spring has sprung all around, but my heart still holds winter. It's been hard to shake the ice from the cobwebs of my thinking.
Not that there has been great crises, or catastrophic events that hold me hostage. But often neglected little things sneak in and stir up grief: A friend moving far away; Children who expand their wings in prep for flight; Unexpected news that seems unfair. And then, there's that thorn in the flesh-- that one thing that doesn't always sit noticed at the front (which makes you think you've licked it.) Just when you aren't paying attention, you find you're back for a refresher course-- a humbling reminder that you are not your own.
In the midst of these things, I cling to what comes so natural to me: distraction. Busy-ness, Facebook, Netflix. Self. Barren places that carry no seeds for life.
So spring came late to my heart.
Over the years, in order to avoid pain (big or small, I deal with it all the same,) distractions looked different, and perhaps I assumed they were more significant: too much exercise, over-focus on food, self-medicating, tight scheduling. But all distractions do the same thing: they keep our focus off of the One who gently calls: come to me.
He calls, and though I know the freedom of His garden, the distractions render me lazy. I no longer remember with clarity the joy set before me. I've settled for much, much less.
What's more? Only He sees the depths of my heart, where beauty doesn't reign, still he calls, "my beautiful one, come." Which humbles me all the more.
Stubborn pride, deliberate disfunction, and unlovely places in the heart… and he calls out beautiful. Why wouldn't I run when He offers freedom in the garden of His truth? I need only the willingness to get up and go; to do what is not natural to me and set aside distractions. Let Him into the pain, He will do the rest. Only God can plant the seeds that give life (and healing) to the soul. Here on earth and in heaven.
The winter of my heart has just begun to melt and it started with a call: "Come, my beautiful one, come with me."
