For two weeks every Spring, the irises take center stage and exhibit their beautiful purplish, blue flowers. For two week, they are magnificent in their glory. And then they are gone. I like to spend as much time as possible with them because I know they are just passing through, soon to cease from blooming simply to recede into the background of garden growth and become green background for other rising blooms.

If you are reading this blog, you are grieving the loss of someone or you have grieved the loss and still remember. You know how precious time is with a loved one. Like an iris, you study it's form and color, you marvel at the quick growth and the sudden blooms that just come out of nowhere. You cut a few and bring inside, but they just aren't the same. You realize you must let them be. Let them grow, bloom quickly, bedazzle you with their color and charm, and then, say good-bye.

Oh, how I wish they would linger longer in my garden. Oh, how I wish they would just continue sending up those sudden puffs of indigo all summer long. Ecclesiastes gives us words that remind us there is a time for everything. Time to live and time to die. Time to bloom and time to stop blooming. Time for color and time to fade away.
                                            Time to enjoy the blooms.
                                                                                Time to let them go.

 Ecclesiastes 3
There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

²     a time to be born and a time to die,
    a time to plant and a time to uproot,
³     a time to kill and a time to heal,
    a time to tear down and a time to build,
⁴     a time to weep and a time to laugh,
    a time to mourn and a time to dance,
⁵     a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
⁶     a time to search and a time to give up,
    a time to keep and a time to throw away,
⁷     a time to tear and a time to mend,
    a time to be silent and a time to speak,
⁸     a time to love and a time to hate,
    a time for war and a time for peace.

Blackberry Winter

I keep waiting for the temperature to rise, for my spirits to warm up to get outside and go for the morning-soon-to-be-late-afternoon walk. But the wind continues to spin the weather vane above my head, and looking out, the clouds just seem to thicken.  It must be Blackberry Winter. You know, it is that last cold spell just before warm weather is finally here to stay.

We find many parallels in the grief journey. We move along, feeling stronger, venturing out more as we
become more accustomed to our grief legs. And then something will cloud our vision, loneliness brings a fresh chill to our days, and memories spin like an out of control weather vane. Maybe we cry a tear or two, reminisce for a little bit, and that's okay.

We must tell ourselves that the blackberries are blooming. And when blackberries bloom, soon there will be fruit - juicy and sweet for the picking. Fruit for a cobbler or fruit for ice cream or jam. And by the way, blackberries are rather hard to find these days. I have to really search to find the blooms, but when I find them, then I can return to harvest the fruit.

Where are blackberries blooming for you in your grief journey? Maybe a new neighbor needs some help with learning her way around. Maybe someone you know needs a word of encouragement. Maybe you need to make your home available for a gathering.

And then the sweet fruit in your life starts to ripen - love, joy, peace, patience, kindness and goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. (Galatians 5:22-23)