It’s a fine pursuit, digging around in one’s very own domestic patch. A glimpse of a curve, a twist, a depression in the ground may lead to manifold discovery.
A jolt of glee surges as an object is freed from the press of time and dirt. How much glass have I tossed in my lifetime? And yet these little bits of something feel like pirate’s treasure. I can’t believe we found them. I can’t believe they’ve stayed hidden all these years. Who could let them go?
When faced with the feelings, I think we’re meant to make discoveries. To look and dig and hope.
At times, finding SOME is enough to know to keep digging further. Or maybe wait for the rains to reveal what we never knew would be there…
Rough diamonds, quartz, moonstone? One can dream. My daughter unearthed these, on a cool, autumn day…
I didn’t think there’d be anything left after scads of pottery chunks and glass shards had been weeded from the ground. Then the sun hit fire. Another broken beer bottle? Glad I checked. I’d been wandering around the yard to assail some loneliness. To assuage some “When, Lord?” questions. Sometimes I want to rush an answer from Him, you know? Turns out, a still, quiet loneliness reaps reward and a little more joy in the waiting. This, we can trust.
My friends, I hope the sun hits fire for you today, that you see what your meant to have.