Spiritual Direction

Saturday, April 10, 2021

Now and Not Yet

Through the long, barren winter
I waited...wearied in the waiting,
truth be told, trying to believe
the promised green
would come again.
And flowers. And warblers'
song.

I bent over woodland floor
and garden beds, nudging aside
last year's leaves and stalks,
probing for the evidence
that was supposed to
be there.

And the day came that I rejoiced,
was giddy, in fact, at the all but invisible 
new shoots, seen only by those
whose patience is wearing 
thin. And I thought I
was content.

This morning I walked the woodland
realizing 
that my longing is not
assuaged, 
after all. 
Dwarf ginseng, trout-lilies
and spring beauties abound,
all in bud, but none open.
The 
brown-thrasher has begun
his glad singing, 
but I
hear no 
warblers. 
I am still
waiting.

And yet, the promise unfolds in
its own time.
Between 
hope and surety,
between wanting 
and waiting,
between desire 
and fulfillment,
in the mystery of this moment
I am embraced. It is 
enough. 

Now and not yet.