Hounded by magnificence

As I dozed in the early light of dawn this morning, my eyes popped open suddenly because I smelled Spring. Nothing was melting that early in the day, so I don’t know what scent drifted in through the plastic covered-windows, but there was no need to understand. My skin understood, and my belly understood, and my heart understood and jumped in my chest like a horse stamping to be free from its stall. I could not go back to sleep.

Every time I was outside today, I heard voices. As I walked from my back door to the truck, I could tell that the snow was singing, the cool air was singing, and the tips of the trees were singing. It was like being serenaded by an elfin chorus. I did not stop to listen. I had a migraine all day. I had so much work to do.

Now there’s a full moon, and the trees are casting straight shadows on the snow. A great number of voices are singing now, and that they will not sing together for long. Something will tip, and the most ethereal tones will disappear along with the pink tones of twilight reflected on the snow. Soon we will smell damp earth, and its voice will rise loud and powerful, and it will guide the song. Already it is with us, sending out a rhythm below the tune. All times are holy, of course, but I can feel the holiness of this time especially well. I can hear God in the midst of all the singing.

I read in Testament of Devotion today that we don’t devote ourselves to God as fully as we ought to because we do not experience enough joyful love for God. I’m not sure what to think about that. Today I was tired, I was hurting, and I was trying so hard to do what was expected of me. Mustering up joyful love sounded too ambitious, but I was hounded by magnificence even so. I could’ve experienced so much more.