On a recent Monday, I saw the sun finally come out full force after a winter with lots of gray. With fresh vision, I saw new life popping out all around:  forsythia, daffodils, pansies, and early blooming trees. It was breath-taking.

I spent this last winter in an emotional gray zone:  inventorying my successes and failures, my joys and sorrows.  I thought I’d already plowed this ground thoroughly but a new round of self-reproach and grief washed over me.  It had been over 40 years since I was divorced and still hadn’t met Mr. Right #2. It seemed like such a waste, for me and for my two children. Wanting to imitate all these spring seeds and bulbs, I saw I needed to break out of the shell of old habits, doubt, and self-pity to enlarge my life and find new adventures, with or without Mr. Right.

The previous weekend when I was at a particularly low point, I prayed fervently for guidance.  A talk from the General Conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on Saturday gave me a partial answer.  One of our women leaders spoke about how overwhelmed she had felt as the mother of four young children.  The counsel she received from one of her leaders was to focus on the essential things first and let some less important tasks take a back seat.  Those essentials included daily prayer and scripture study, alone and with her family, plus weekly family home evening.

As I listened, I realized my essentials were daily spiritual practice, launching my writing, and regular exercise, but they often took a back seat to lesser things.  That Monday was The First Day of the Rest of My Life – I switched my routine housework to the afternoon and spent the morning writing. Then off to work out, coming home with muscles singing the Hallelujah Chorus to tackle housework.  My to-do list was completed before my energy faded – hooray! I felt I was back on track and God had rewarded my two A’s:  Asking and Action. 

Up popped a lovely memory this morning:  the well by my “little red house” in New Hampshire.  It wasn’t deep and would go dry every fall.  In spite of leaves in the bottom and a friendly frog swimming in it, the water always tested clean and drinkable plus it tasted of the wild landscape all around – a wonderful, bubbly miracle of nature.  I had the idea that I should climb down a ladder to the bottom during one of those dry spells and dig out those old leaves so it would be even cleaner.  My friend Pam came over with a ladder and she hauled bucket after bucket of leaves and sludge up as I filled them.  After a while I came to realize that I could dig forever and all I’d do was find more dirt – all the way to China!

Lesson learned:  Once you find yourself in a hole, quit digging, and climb out.  Nature takes care of cleaning the water if the well is properly sited and dug in the first place – after that we humans can’t improve on it.

Corollary lesson:  If you filter your sorrows and regrets properly as you go, you don’t need to revisit them.  They’re healed and forgiven with God’s grace.  The result is a return of joy just like my well filled to overflowing again every December.  A favorite scripture comes to mind:

Therefore with joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation.  (Isaiah 12:3)

May you sort out your essentials and find joy in the journey this spring!

New Life in the Shadow of the Old