Dreaming of Silver Roses

            I was oblivious to anything other than Spring all around me. I was so captivated by purple clover tops, greens in every hue, dandelions yellow and white, red breasts, and red tufted head, grey tipped wings, black shiny eyes and beaks, and white glistening wet backs, the smell of dew dropped grasses and leaves, the scent of a pond at sunrise, the sounds of His songs and the breath of the wind on the leaves. I was so totally arrested by beauty that it caught me utterly off guard.

I wanted to retch all over the side walk. It was instantaneous that the tears welled up in my eyes and heart. There was an ache that words can’t express. I heard once that “tears are a language that God understands.” I stumbled on around the sidewalk track for a half a lap thanking God that no one was close enough to see me so stricken.

I wandered around and tried to recapture the first impressions that had come with the walk. I still saw the same song birds, flowers, new grasses, turtles, trees in blossom and the antipodal dichotomy assaulted me. Life, life, and more life….verses a smashed duck egg lying on the outer edge of the concrete walking track.

I know there are people who would say, “April, please! All that trauma over one broken egg!” It wasn’t that it was broken. It was smashed. Spilt out on purpose. Someone’s purpose. My husband the biologist, in all tenderness toward me and well meaning in heart, would say, “April, that’s a control measure for over population.” I’m certain it is. There’s a rationale I’m sure. There are those who would say, “Honey, you need to toughen up and get over it. That’s life.”

But see that’s just my point. NO! That is NOT life! It is the opposite of life. I’m not an advocate for eco-terrorism. I’m not, well… in a way I am but, I’m not an extreme tree hugger. I’m not a vegetarian, which I regret some days, but I like meat. I am very well that all life exists at the expense of other life. That is true. We have to eat something. This isn’t what I am talking about at all. This is a killing of something and leaving it to be found in its death right out where life marches on not noticing. If it has to be done, it has to be done, but Oh God! No death deserves to be so lightly administered! Life is art. Life is intimate. Life is love. Life is not reproducible. Every creation of life is unique. There is no birth, no creative process that is ever the same. Whether it’s a human birth or a child with a crayon, it is miraculous! It is evidence that we were created by an Artist. All was created by the word or the hand of an Artist!

And so I grieve. I grieve at closed eyes that refused to see the miracle they smashed. I grieve at every blind eye that refuses to see the miracles they are daily confronted with. I’m deeply horrified and afflicted at those of us who walk daily by miracle after miracle in eyes we never connect with in stores, on sidewalks, on buses, in cars; in house after apartment, after condo, after fishing boat, after shanty, after barrio, after mansion, after cradle of life! Every canvas, every writing tablet, every chunk of marble, every pit of clay, every weavers shop, every seamstresses boutique, every instrumentalists five-and-dime! We walk by miracles every day without the one thing that the art demands – awe!

That is my grief at its core. We have lost awe so much that we can casual smash and leave art broken ruined at the feet of others who barely notice the smear as they march on “living”. Business and activity does not equal living! It is necessary. I do not deny that, but it is not living or we wouldn’t yearn for weekends and vacations and most of all, the God sanctioned Sabbaths.

I know this is a bummer of a blog from April the worlds most sanguine Pollyanna typically, but callousness and apathy burdens me like nothing else I can explain. It grieves me. Someone once said to me with a well meaning chuckle of affection, “April, you’re such a big kid.” Yeah, but am I beautifully and simply child-like or childish? Or another favorite of mine; “April,  you can never be anything but a poet or writer, you’re just too sensitive.” Maybe I am. But I am also alive!

            Psalm 96

 1 Sing to the LORD a new song;
       sing to the LORD, all the earth.

 2 Sing to the LORD, praise his name;
       proclaim his salvation day after day.

 3 Declare his glory among the nations,
       his marvelous deeds among all peoples.

 4 For great is the LORD and most worthy of praise;
       he is to be feared above all gods.

 5 For all the gods of the nations are idols,
       but the LORD made the heavens.

 6 Splendor and majesty are before him;
       strength and glory are in his sanctuary.

 7 Ascribe to the LORD, O families of nations,
       ascribe to the LORD glory and strength.

 8 Ascribe to the LORD the glory due his name;
       bring an offering and come into his courts.

 9 Worship the LORD in the splendor of his holiness;
       tremble before him, all the earth.

 10 Say among the nations, “The LORD reigns.”
       The world is firmly established, it cannot be moved;
       he will judge the peoples with equity.

 11 Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad;
       let the sea resound, and all that is in it;

 12 let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them.
       Then all the trees of the forest will sing for joy;

 13 they will sing before the LORD, for he comes,
       he comes to judge the earth.
       He will judge the world in righteousness
       and the peoples in his truth.

For further reading : Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art (Wheaton Literary Series) By Madeleine L’Engle Release date: 17 April, 2001