It is a tenderly beautiful day of hushed breezes, windbrooms sweeping away the old and all that is worn down by sin, every little bud of wrong pried of its tethers and sent away.
It begins as a day of hope for a Light much needed and yearned for.
I hear the winds as they sing their mysteries, hushing yet lifting, placing hearts and lives within the Heart of the slain Lamb Risen. I sing and I sing and sing.
And then, for some minutes, the windsongs change their notes. In the briefest of minutes, a chilling in the gold~blue warmth through green welcomes. A hush of caution I hear.
I am led to a valley hidden, in the sundrenched blue of morning, where the winds sing differently for a wee while. They whisper their notes in my heart.
I hear the sound of a goodbye.
Something, somewhere will never be the same again.
Happy Easter. What a powerful and personal flight of soul you have been permitted us to take with you this Lenten season. Each day more vulnerable than the previous…even raw and open like our Savior’s wounds. May he bless you and yours forever.
I am particularly intrigued with the image of the windswept seascape, the tombstones and poor old “Chr. Jorgensen” who is buried at Maarup gaard (Marup farm). There is only one place in the world where this could be.
In the northern most tip of Denmark overlooking the cold harshness of the North Sea is found ” Marup Kirke” (Marup Church). It was established in 1250 on a cliff a hundred feet above the sea. It stood against the constant buffeting of the strong sea winds until 2008 after years of constant erosion finally cut away too much the steep slope. Such Christian tenacity!
I never found Mr. Jorgensen’s story, but I sense that the new parish church grows from the roots of that battered old tree that guards the graves of its past worthy saints. May it last for another 800 years.
A thousand years is like a day to our Creator.
St. Margaret of Denmark, pray for us.
I am STUNNED by what you have told me, God’s Child. I never imagined there’d be such history attached to one of my pictures. The pictures that go with every post are the result of prayer and discernment – I always pray that Mother Mary (to whom I’ve dedicated this blog) selects the right one to complete the words given to me. I must say I was troubled that the old resting place was the chosen one for my last Lent entry – because amongst the many Easter wishes shared in some of the places I visit, there was one place where the greetings unmistakably sounded like farewells to one another.
I certainly never expected God to will that coming death be the final Lent post. I’ve tried to lift my spirits by thinking it refers to a death of sin.
But my heart says otherwise.
Thank you for all you’ve been to me, done for me, God’s Child. Wishing you and yours a Blessed Beginning.
I cannot be sure, but I think I might have found Chr. Jorgensen…http://www.dis-danmark.dk/forum/read.php?11,610569,610569#msg-610569
There is so much that I could say to you about caution, sin, death and new birth in Our Lord’s resurrection. It would be about strength born of failure, hope and God’s Mercy. It would speak of a being released from the bonds of dark and brutal memories…tales of salvation to light…to joy…to love. Not a “from” thing but a ” to” thing. Stories worthy of song like those your heart invites us to “sing and sing and sing”. Sweet tears of Easter happiness and gratitude despite a gloomy, rainy day.
Old Jorgensen had a harsh and difficult life, whoever he was. But at some time in his life (and mine) the winds stop, the cold relents and the warmth of the sun stirs the seeds of the soul to bear the bright and colorful flowers of Spring. They may glance back from where they sprang for a brief moment, then they can but turn their faces upward to the warm light that gave them new life. They can only hope that their blooming dance in whispering breezes pleases their Creator as they rise from the soil of winter death. Joy…only Joy.
Your words accompany me and inspire reflections that make my soul leap.
September 23, 2017 The sky will show a woman clothed in the sun with the moon at her feet and a crown of twelve stars at her head. Something somewhere is about to change for sure.
That’s St Pio’s feast day.
Even now, things are changing so rapidly from day to day, even hour to hour. But yes, coming, is a change no one has yet envisioned.
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