Today I hold the tension of a bright sadness.
It is Maundy Thursday, often a day of reflection as we head into the darkness of Good Friday.
Yesterday, as I wandered in my little garden, I rejoiced again in the generous beauty of my forsythia bush, a blaze of colour this year. To my delight, I discovered the first daffodil bloom, and in another corner, the first dandelions made their appearance.
There is brightness at this time of year, and I even wrote a poem of sorts about it:
Shades of Yellow
Shades of yellow,
the forsythia started it
a bush of yellow glory
heralding
spring. Spring has come
despite the cold wind
and winter’s last attempts.
Frosty mornings
could not dissuade
my yellow bush,
and as if encouraged
the first daffodil
shyly lifted it’s head
and a dandelion joined in.
On the hills nearby
I hear
there are new balsam daisies
and buttercups
A riot of yellow
bright sunshine after
a long winter,
rays of hope
into my weary world.
This brightness cheers my soul, even in the deep sadness I have felt this week, over many things. I am aware of suffering, of grief, of disputes, the darkness of this world. The war in Ukraine saddens our hearts, as do conflicts around the world, often in our communities and even in our families.
This morning, I read the words of Jesus, in the days preceding his death. “A new commandment”, he says… “that you love one another.” In those last hours he washed the disciple’s feet, he served and taught the ones he loved. He must have felt that bright sadness, the hope of the resurrection, but the terrible weight of the world, and the suffering to come.
And so, I’m encouraged to hold that tension, To be reminded that in all things, to love one another. In times of darkness, and sadness, I’m grateful for the light, for flashes of beauty, for the hope of resurrection.
John 13:34
