Sunshine

I got me flowers to straw thy way:

I got me boughs off many a tree:

But thou wast up by break of day,

And brought’st thy sweets along with thee.

The Sun arising in the East,

Though he give light, and th’East perfume;

If they should offer to contest

With thy arising, they presume.

Can there be any day but this,

Though many suns to shine endeavor?

We count three hundred, but we miss:

There is but one, and that one ever.

(From “Easter” George Hebert, 1633)

Considering it is Easter Monday, and the sun is at last making an, all be it timid, appearance, this poem of thanksgiving seems an appropriate thought for the day. The simplicity of Herbert’s actions and lyrics express a joyful and almost innocent thankfulness for all that this time of year signifies. As dawn breaks and the light of day rises, he lays flowers and gathers greenery in an expression of his gratefulness and rejoicing in the new life that now surrounds him. Not only does he appreciate the beauty and wonder of the new day, but also he gives thanks to its creator in acknowledgement of the real Light, that outshines three hundred suns. 

Yesterday I didn’t lay flowers, and sadly was not up with the sun, but was treated to an Easter celebration also full of the simple joy of the season. Spending the afternoon with new friends in a slightly idyllic rural setting, sharing a meal and entertaining ourselves with games (“Jungle Speed” is definitely one to be purchased…added bonus of no words involved, so also no linguistic disadvantage…) it was a simple but special Sunday that seemed to match the junction we have reached as April commences. Not only did the exploring of their “garden” (more like a mini-farm to me) include a seasonally relevant visit to the hens and newly born rabbits, I appreciated more than anything the comfortable ambiance and ease of conversation that makes the first Tuesday evening at our church home-group (in which I was too frightened to even introduce myself) seem like a very a long time ago. Back in November I mused that it would be the small moments of kindness and friendship that would mark my time in Alsace, and as this season is drawing to its close, I can reaffirm this sentiment. 

It is with anticipation that i await a return to the slightly less idyllic but equally special Solihull, and it is with (nervous) excitement that i think on the stage to follow this appreciated interlude, but at the same time it is not without sadness that I will leave the peaceful period a l'alsacienne I am at last seeking to savour. Easter weekend brought both a reminder of how blessed this season has been.  Apparently we are experiencing the lowest temperatures at this time of year in over 50 years, but even the cold weather doesn’t stop me echoing Herbert’s thankfulness for the gift we were given before having time to lay our flowers, and the small signs of this love along the way.