Have you ever read Hilaire Belloc’s “Tarantella”? It’s such a fun poem. He uses the words to create the rhythm of the famous folk dance from the Mezzogiorno, where my family is originally from. “Do you remember an Inn, Miranda? Do you remember an Inn?”
This afternoon, I took a little break from work to walk around my alma mater (Catholic University). It was the first real spring day after a long spell of post-winter chill.
Where I live, April is usually warm and sunny, but this year it’s been noticeably overcast and cold. It’s so strange to see people wearing their winter coats to checking out the cherry blossoms around the Tidal Basin. (I promise you, if you’re not from DC, it’s not usually like that).
The extended winter of this year has been matched by an extended winter in my soul. More than once in the last week have I asked myself, “Why, if it’s Easter, am I still stuck in the Garden?”
As I began my walk, I said a little prayer and asked Jesus to come along with me.
First I noticed the dandelions, and the tiny little purple and blue flowers peeking out among the weeds.
And I heard that quiet, gentle voice:
Do you remember?
And something began to stir.
Then I saw the tulips, with their bright red petals.
Do you remember?
Then I found myself among the cherry blossoms, and watched as the little pink petals swirled around me, in and out of the streams of sunlight.
Do you remember?
Yes, Lord, I do! I remember when dandelions and violets were priceless little treasures, and each new bloom was filled with possibilities.
I remember when I would sit in the grass and make chains of clover, and listen to the birds and wonder what it was that they were saying.
Yes, Lord. I remember. I remember what it was to be a little girl.
You still are, to me, and you can be, again.
Sometimes in the dark and stormy winters of life, we forget that there ever was a spring. Sometimes the chill sinks so deep that we don’t even realize there was a life before grief. Hope? What’s that?
If this is you, I promise you, spring will come. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I know it will.
Do you remember?
Nicodemus said to him, “How can a person once grown old be born again? Surely he cannot reenter his mother’s womb and be born again, can he?” Jesus answered, “Amen, amen, I say to you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of flesh is flesh and what is born of spirit is spirit. Do not be amazed that I told you, ‘You must be born from above.’ The wind blows where it wills, and you can hear the sound it makes, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes; so it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”
Tales from the Valley 