Small pockets of bubbling Joy
in the last few days,
busy at work, in the morning
as the sun is rising higher in the sky
something draws my eyes, and my
attention
up to a wall of the greenhouse where perhaps
I don’t often
gaze
and this day I notice
gorgeous tuffs of the lightest, fluffiest snow
stuck to the wall, back lit
by the sun
softly shining through
it’s like a delicate beautiful, perfectly positioned
work of art
what drew me here
Friday morning,
in the still slumbering house, again as happens
just as the sun is peaking
through
and I am taking coffee to my chair
through the window
I notice, in some kind of joyful revelation
how the light touches small gatherings of snow
collected in various shapes
some on the tiniest twigs, some in
bends
almost magically holding on
adorning the stark bareness of the crabapple
and each one
a small work of art
this morning, in my facebook memories
I see the wonderful smiling face of a dear, dear friend
shining like the brightest burst of light
in a crowded room
that he was,
gone four years now
and just how very much I miss
the greatest laughter and genuine good intent
any heart could possibly
hold
certainly still loved, physical presence
of our friend Rob
still
greatly missed
and to yesterday, where we travelled to attend a
Celebration of a
Life
the beautiful, gentle, full
full life
of our Uncle Bob
and what I’m thinking about today,
are the great pockets of joy
we come together to celebrate
in our beloved of course, but also
in each other
how this draws us
we cannot know our story,
how long, how clearly it will play out
how many lives we will touch
and in how many varied ways
sounds a little clichéd I suppose,
but I firmly believe
we all come with a starting and
an ending
date
I cannot explain, just how I know this
I can only tell you
that I do
this in fact came to me, after the devastating, sudden
and unexpected loss of a friend
I was out in the garden, a beautiful sunny day
and it struck me like a kind of lightning bolt
we all have
an end to our story
some very short
some very
long
some sudden and tragic
some just…
quietly
go
we just rarely ever know
when
and this I believe, is why
we come together to
celebrate
each other
in love, in laughter, in tears
in stories, in
remembrance
in presence
as those we have loved and do love
always
remain,
no longer in the physical sense, true
but they never, ever
stop
being a part of us
our
story
we don’t lose that
or them
and this, my friends
is why and how
we
are made of love
this is why
small, maybe
but very significant
pockets
of Joy ♥