Wind of the Spirit

 

A fine mist is sweeping across the fields and gardens, as if a global gardener is using a fine sprayer to provide moisture for her growing plants. The sky is seamlessly grey; the hills hidden from sight. Not my ideal day.

And yet, I can’t help but smile listening to the joyful song of the blackbird. Spring offers sounds not heard at other times of year, songs of hope and expectation. The cuckoo’s crazy cry breaks in a few times, nothing like as musical as the blackbird but raising a smile as well.

I took a sample of the brown, curling leaves on one of our hydrangeas to the expert at the garden centre yesterday, fearing the plant is succumbing to a disease. No, he assured me. Frost and cold wind damage. It should recover on its own, when warmer weather at last arrives.

I think perhaps I have a touch of frost and cold wind damage. The news and other sad situations can steal my usual buoyancy and curl my inner resilience. Encouraging to know that as I wait on the Lord, asking for a fresh filling of his Holy Spirit, I don’t need to wait for outer conditions to improve. In his loving embrace, my withered senses will recover.

Waiting. As I wait for the warm winds of the Holy Spirit to revive me, may I rest in your unconditional love, Lord Jesus. Wind, wind, blow on me. Wind, wind, set me free. Wind, wind, my Father sends the blessed Holy Spirit.