Back brace, check. Shoulder brace, check. Knee brace, check. Wrist brace, check.
I am ready to plant the flower bulbs.
Today, in an annual fall ritual, I planted bulbs for spring. Rather than surrender to the ready reasons to neglect this chore, I was determined to get the bulbs at least five inches deep, in some cases, eight. I was going to observe this ritual of hope that has lifted my spirits, twice a year -- both in fall when I bury them and spring when I watch them emerge.
There are so many of these small rituals in life that we often skate right by them, not recognizing them for what they are. Every time I drop a letter in the mail box - it is with a confidence and some hope that it will reach the person for whom it is intended. As I pack up Christmas ornaments, I always spend time imagining all of the good things that might happen during the ensuing year. A whispered prayer, a lit candle, a set table all represent hopes of different kinds and different proportions, but hope all the same.
A jar with nothing in it could hold anything; that simple thought fills me with hope.
Maybe we should place more empty jars out to catch the promise of hope delivered by the bright light of day.
You would not believe the number of various sized & shaped jars I have collected over the years! They take up precious space in my cabinets & are lined up on top of shelves and in my kitchen and garage. I use them for storing nails, screws, buttons, pop can tabs (make jewelry out of them) and beads. I guess I love jars because of their purpose, which can be decorative with fresh cuttings, or handy for pretty storage.
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