And the Greatest of These is

 

Today my inspiration comes from those who now struggle to breathe, those who have been visited by News, now sitting beside Stunned, Shocked, and Disbelief.   I am reminded of words I wrote to the dear readers of To the Moon and Back to Me; to watch a sunset, to really watch a sunset often happens when someone learns life may start slipping from their reach.   As life brings moments in which we feel a narrowing, the depth and breadth of what we see begins expanding.    As News brings us abruptly to the present, and uncertainty pulls the blinds over long-range planning, we begin to look closely at what is most valuable and our top priorities.

Maya Angelou’s words whispered in the breeze; and still I rise, as I saw the three-leafed greenery.  Among the already sleeping leaves now dormant after more than one snow fall, this pristine green stood out, brave, bold, tall.    It would be understandable if it now looked like the one beside it yellowed from one to many frosty nights.   Not this green leaf – and still it has found a way to rise.

As I marveled at this three-leafed hardiness I also thought about the significant of three.  Hope, faith, and love seemed to also be its whispering.    I thought about dialogue with a dear friend in which we talked about vulnerability, how it can be in the most vulnerable of times that love becomes the purest, unconditionally.    Love becomes the basin that catches the rushing flow of emotions after someone open the dam.     Love grows stronger and deeper when others see the person behind the masks.   Our minds tell us that to show the whole of us could mean love fades.    Even greater our fear when we believe the whole of us is starting to slip away.

Yet, what if putting the masks down gently in front of us is more like offering a spectacular unveiling?   Like of a fine piece of art or a much-anticipated glimpse of a diamond’s glistening?   Or perhaps putting the masks down allows air to more easily flow.    A freedom of breath and a heavy weight lifted as one continues to let go.   A back no longer strapped with a heavy weight, bent over but unable to…rise.  As the weight is removed, the ability to stand taller one finds.

I think of this tiny three-leafed full-of-life greenery and how it is so very vulnerable as it peeks through the brown leaves.   Leaves have fallen, snow has fallen, and oh the weight must have been great at times.  And yet, in hope and in faith that snow melts and Spring will come, still…it does rise.

 

 

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