When 2010 arrived, it seemed like a nice even number to roll over your tongue. A new decade had arrived with new perspectives, new ideas, and for me, a new book, Sword of the wild Rose, coming out in April. Twenty-ten – it was fun to say the number. However, the year was not even a month old before an unexpected heartbreak stunned our lives. We went to our knees in prayer, wondering what had happened, what had gone wrong, and if we could have prevented the trial that left us reeling with doubt and confusion. During such dark moments, the age-old questions begin nibbling at our faith, seeking for answers that never come. Some circumstances that appear on the stage of our life clambering for a part, even demanding a starring role, must be left with God. Resolution to difficult situations is not always in our hands, not in our ability or our feeble efforts to resolve. At such times, I find comfort and solace in simple things, in simple pleasures; my home, my family, the five senses of nature, of touch and feel, of taste and smell, of music and words. Perhaps I seek simplicity because the uncomplicated appears less demanding, less threatening, and needs no clarification. I understand simple things. I am a simple person and I find enjoyment in the unsophisticated, the unpretentious. A crackling fire burning on the hearth is soothing and requires no mental effort to enjoy. I can hold my husband’s hand and feel his love, his devotion. I need no words to explain this. Love exists and simply is. When I cannot understand the complexities in my world, I know that God is able to handle the complicated issues; those thorny problems that only prick us and make new wounds when we try to untangle what is beyond our grasp, when we try to go beyond our reach.
Recently, during a particularly difficult day, my husband hung a wee sign from the chandelier above our dining room table. It read: “Meet me under the mistletoe.” How simple is that? How comforting is that? And…I know where I hung the mistletoe.
Lord, I am like to mistletoe,
Which has no root, and cannot grow
Or prosper but by that same tree
It clings about; so I by Thee.
What need I then to fear at all,
So long as I about Thee crawl?
But if that tree should fall and die,
Tumble shall heaven, and down will I.
Robert Herrick
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