Made of hidden joys

The first of our poppies have bloomed: frilly, frothy, multi-petalled pink pom poms, their pollen a magnet to bees, who nuzzle and burrow into their depths before emerging, laden, a minute or so later. As the bees enter, the petals obligingly ripple open then close around them, an effective shield. And so the actual act of collecting pollen, deep within the poppy, remains as well hidden as the bees themselves; an intensely private moment of purposeful sating.

Today we celebrate the Visitation, that loveliest of encounters between Mary and Elizabeth, when the unborn, seemingly hidden Christ within Mary caused that leap of joy within Elizabeth. And I thought of those bees as I read the title of Malcolm Guite's sonnet for the Visitation - Hidden Joys, with its opening line: Here is a meeting made of hidden joys...

And I paused and considered the many hidden joys in my life: the times of encounter and recognition and beatitude; those heart-leaping moments when I know that it is Christ, with all his life and promise, who has crossed my threshold. Friendship and fullness, new life and grace: so many moments, which, if not entirely hidden, certainly take place quietly, simply, away from any fanfare. Precious moments, but not given solely for my delight. They are given as pollen and nectar are to bees: nourishment not just for me, but to be shared; an overflow of rejoicing and love which can never - should never - be kept hidden.

What are the hidden joys in your life, for which your spirit rejoices today...?