i don't know if it's because of the breed (is that the right word?)or because of zone 7/8, but my long-neglected rosebush is blooming again, the brilliant fuchsia oxymoron to the first of november. i'm sure the last petals will fall with the first frost, yet i, too, thought august had drained the final blossoms of my tired bush.
i guess it still burns.
when we met, he told me he'd been wandering the desert for a while, doing anything to shake the lushness of the gospel, choosing to sunburn under atheism, agnosticism, pragmatism, humanism, and logic's prickly harshness. but even then, when vultures watched with hawking cries, he couldn't run away from the Whisperer, the gospel written deeply in his heart even as he ran from familiar doorposts.
i guess it still burned.
do you know how mysteries unravel and solve themselves about 20 pages til the end and you finally see the pattern, begin to know whodunnit? this, an analogy that breaks down in the face of true mystery, the One with mysterious ways, whose thoughts are not our thoughts. Shea's memory verse (chosen oh-so-"randomly" for him; i thought it would be a good lesson for him when really it was a lesson for us): and we know he has worked all things for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose (romans 8:28).
i watched his faith unravel for a season. held my fear so closely i couldn't even share it here. i was too afraid that giving voice would give fervent reality (as if i could create with my voice!!!). then, a warming, a spark, and i was afraid to breathe, afraid to blow it out (as if i could puff out the breath that breathed us out!!!). and then life shattered a bit, and all those worries seemed realized: the bitterness, the fist clenched towards God, the too-easy fall into frustration and despair. i was blessed with eyes to see, but no way to help his vision.
today his knuckles are loosened. his eyes have adjusted (from the mirror, darkly), and he senses the Bigger-than-he-is quotient. i breathe out murmured praise and choose to believe out loud this time, and hold fast. my lover has been woo'd again to the Beloved, and while there will certainly be ravines in the mud, i'm so happy to pray with my husband again, to hear his heart.
it doesn't seem so odd anymore, the blazing pink in the chilly air.