It’s September and my heart cannot help but sing. It’s not that everything is going just right, it’s that I am learning to rest, laugh and be still in the midst of the scurrying, sorrow and commotion. Also, the Jacaranda trees are in bloom; purple blossoms are bursting out of their skins, their insides exposed for all the world to see. There is a joy that cannot be contained. If we allow it to move us like these blossoms, our best, unseen parts become visible and instead of dying from such a vulnerable response, the closed-up-tight buds of our lives become a magnificent display. A new season is upon us. Let go of the old one!
If you stand still, you can hear the bees. They never seem to rest and they are welcome here. Fiery, stinging, busy, buzzing pudding-producing creatures. Somehow, watching them dance as they work settles my heart. There is a fine balance in the world and many, many things are working well. Perfectly, in fact! I can see that out here with the blossoms and bees showing me how to live. The sun is beginning to sink low, becoming a perfect pink, orange ball as it hangs in the pale sky. The children are all inside with their father and I am picking mulberries. I have asked him to let me be alone out here and he doesn’t question me. He is like my bouncer here in this establishment we call our home, except he keeps the young ones inside. The tree is dripping with green, pink, purple and black fruit. I don’t know where to begin. As I stand there with my bowl, delicate branches hanging down over me like a veil, a gentle breeze smooths my forehead like a father’s tender hand. The coolness trickles through my damp, unruly hair evaporating the stress of the day. We are nearing the end of a full day in what has been a long string of full days and yet standing here is doing more for me than counselling, a glass of wine or a big sleep could ever do. I eat a few berries and then begin to fill the bowl as if I am in a race with myself. Abundance! I will never be able to contain all this!
Psalm 81 verse 10 says “open your mouth wide and I will fill it” and I remember that He has been doing just that since I was a little girl. The memories of feeling satisfied come rushing without order. They break ranks as they compete for my attention – a golden labrador for Christmas, new hockey boots, holding hands around the table, a surprise chocolate in my drawer, galloping through wheat fields, reading books on my bed whilst sunbeams wash the room, swimming in the sea, eating peas in the vegetable garden, a tiny kitten lapping milk from a small bowl on the kitchen floor, kind teachers, a thousand sunrises, a wedding, newborns’ first breaths, a blue wardrobe, friends – yes always friends waiting for me wherever I might find myself. A lifetime of opening my mouth wide so that He can fill it.
The baby finds me. How did he do that? His father says I have a magnet and everyone in our family is attracted to me, that’s how. Father runs to scoop up the runaway son, apologising and muttering how unbelievably speedy he is considering his size. I had wanted to be alone, but now I have changed my mind. I say they are welcome to stay, and before long the others have joined us. The world is spinning quickly and people all over the outside of it are spinning even faster, but we are not. It’s September here in Africa. The scent of climbing jasmine is drifting across the garden as the cool of evening glides in. We are standing still under the mulberry tree, feasting together. The dinner is ready but that can wait. This moment is too good to lose. And if we can fill this bowl too, perhaps we will freeze the berries and use them to make a pie when this season has long since passed.
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