Almost, but not yet

Cherry Blossom

"Almost, but not yet" was the caption I attached to some photos I uploaded on Facebook tonight of living things emerging from the ground: two volunteers in my front yard, possibly a lily of the valley and a tree sapling, and a partially opened cherry blossom in a neighbor's yard. I marvel at the saplings; it survived the ravenous squirrels and the well-trodden path of the mail carrier. Each organism will open and grow as it is meant to be in its own good time. Well, in the case of the two volunteers in my front yard, they will grow until the lawnmower comes along. And in the case of the cherry blossom, its beauty and fragrance will be fleeting as it leafs out.

Lily of the Valley?
I need a horticulturist!

The vulnerability and fragility of these plants strike me tonight, as I, myself, am feeling pretty vulnerable and pretty tender. I don't know if I want this blog, which is supposed to be about finding the grace in each day, to become a place where I air in great detail my current mental health struggles in pandemic times. Perhaps that is a bit selfish, given that there are probably others who could benefit from reading such accounts. We all need to feel heard and seen, especially when mental health issues often make us feel misunderstood to even our closest friends and family members. I recently read Reasons to Live by Matt Haig, a British author who has depression and anxiety. His compelling memoir doesn't mince words; he is incredibly honest in describing his feelings, thoughts, and actions from his lowest point of not wanting to live through his recovery, which he admits is ongoing. So many times in the book I found myself exclaiming, "Yes! He gets me." Right now, though, I'm not Matt Haig.

Tree sapling survivor.

I suppose what I'd like anyone reading this blog to know is that the grace of the day is often intermingled with not-so grace-filled moments, thoughts, and experiences that sometimes bring me to my knees and cloud my ability to see and to know what is good, true, and beautiful. Will I share those experiences here? Almost, but not yet.