Yesterday I went with a friend to the Wellesley (MA) College Botanic Gardens – specifically to the greenhouses as the outside gardens are resting at present. I posted a few pictures on Face Book last night. Here are a few for those who do not see Face Book. One “arm” of the greenhouse network was devoted to the work of students in a horticultural program. They had planted seeds. A man who works there told us that one room represented a class that had met and potted early the previous week, and another class that planted later that week. I was reminded that I had not grown anything from seed in a very long time – perhaps it is time. As I examined a number of the pots we could see some little hints of green that had already broken through the potting medium. But, of more interest to me were the pots where you could see bumps in the surface, evidence of something taking place below but not yet broken through, not yet transformed into something new. They were however, in the process of transformation, and that was important for me to note.
There are seasons in our lives which are marked by silence…or at least I would say there are seasons in my life marked by silence. There are times when my creative juices long to flow – and yet do not. Times when I feel like crying out loud, but the tears do not come…the sorrow unnamed. I took comfort in the second verse of Natalie Sleeth’s hymn that we sang today, “In the Bulb There is a Flower”:
There’s a song in every silence, seeking word and melody;
there’s a dawn for every darkness, bringing hope to you and me.
From the past will come the future; what it holds, a mystery,
unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.