On Candlemas

Today is Candlemas.
The day that remembers Mary & Joseph presenting Jesus in the Temple.
They met Simeon & Anna;
Both prophets.
Both faithful.
Both very, very old.

God had given them a promise, it would seem.
And it was many, many years before they saw Jesus,
the promised One.
Many, many winters.
Long.
Lonely.
Maybe they had thought 'Is this the one?'
Only to have their hopes dashed
Over and over again.

And you know I can relate.
Maybe you can too?
I live with an illness that varies in intensity,
but never completely subsides.

And with every prayer that is prayed for me
and over me
and with me,
my hope rises.

Now Lord?
Is it now?
Has healing come?
And it would seem the answer is invariably,
No.

The last seven days have been difficult.
I sensed 'an episode' on it's way.
This time I didn't fight it so hard.
I took some time.
Cancelled some stuff.
Watched some films.
Slept a bit.
Then slept some more,
And worked when necessary.

Today has been a heavy day pastorally.
And when I walked the dog a few hours ago, I started to notice a few things.
Buds on a branch...
Catkins on a tree...
Rose-tinted sky...

And when I got home, this....


.


It's a snowdrop.
Or a Candlemas bell as it's also known.
And it's growing in the middle of our recently-turfed lawn.
Just one.
Not particularly beautiful.
From nowhere, it would seem.

I certainly haven't noticed it before today.
The day that is Candlemas.
The day when Jesus was recognised as the One who would bring light to the darkness of earth.
The Light of the World.
Not just for the Chosen, but for everyone.

This flower is a symbol of hope apparently.

Hope.
In the darkness.
Amid the hardness that is life.
Amongst sickness that goes on and on despite prayers for healing.

Hope.
There's always hope.

Wishing you a happy and hope-filled Candlemas.

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