by Elizabeth Burgard Fulgaro copyright 2020
Oct 22 to Jan 6 reflections from an upcoming book for tending hurting hearts at Christmas
Rivulets of rain are streaming down the steep, rocky hillside behind our home. In the meadow directly below, it is greening. Just days after the first drops of seasonal moisture pelted the bone-dry ground, seeds sprouted, and life came forth from places which had seemed hopelessly lifeless.
Life from that which was dead. There had been only faded, gray-yellow wisps of spent grasses where the previous spring’s endless array of a million breath-taking wildflowers had once carpeted the ground in brilliant joyful color. The profusion had brought such wonder and awe, soothing the soul with beauty which instantly elevated thoughts to God! The hope of possibilities yet to come! Now, so long gone. Nothing left. (Or so it seemed.) Scorched to death by the relentless, seemingly merciless, glaring summer heat.
But then came the change of seasons. And with winter the water.
This is like life. Moments—sometimes seasons—of hopelessness where I reach the end of myself. Where it is as if only deadness remains. Dryness and no water. Parched and dying of thirst. Faith still there. Resilient. Resolute. Choosing to believe! Yet, pain, too. And sorrow. All this and more unavoidably present and in the mix.
The need for water which revivifies. New hope. Galvanization. God-hope, which springs forth from the broader more precise truth He brings instead of from my own well-intentioned imaginations.
The Holy Spirit is the water. I seek Him.
And the rain falls. The water runs down. The new life which God always intended bursts forth from the seeds I was no longer sure were there. His new and unavoidable spring indeed will come. Lord, lead on.
Lord, let the water of Your Spirit come cascading down from Your heavenly throne room and into our midst like a river of refreshing winter rain. Let this river of Your love be the beacon of hope which illuminates the darkness of winter in my soul. According to You promises, carry me through this unwanted winter into Your awaiting spring. I am leaning on You. Thanks be to You for who You are. Hallelujah!
1 Wait and listen, everyone who is thirsty! Come to the waters; and he who has no money, come, buy and eat! Yes, come, buy [priceless, spiritual] wine and milk without money and without price [simply for the self-surrender that accepts the blessing].
2 Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your earnings for what does not satisfy? Hearken diligently to Me, and eat what is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness [the profuseness of spiritual joy].
If you are just joining in these reflections, read the Introduction here to learn what these are all about.
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