One of our sisters died a few weeks ago, aged 103. It is incredible to think what changes she must have seen - in politics, social norms, the Church, transport, technology, women's rights - in a life which began only a year after the Russian Revolution, and shortly before the end of World War I. And how many significant anniversaries, too...
Had Amy lived a few more weeks she would have been celebrating her 80th anniversary of vows today: eighty years of daily, irresistible call and response, and mutual, loving fidelity. No doubt she and God are celebrating together today, in utter fullness - and if there are snowdrops in heaven, then I'm sure she'll be surrounded by them!
Five years ago I wrote about Amy's 75th anniversary, and the significance for her of snowdrops...
An anniversary or jubilee of commitment can also be an occasion for looking back, often with wonder and gratitude, at the enduring love and fidelity which have permeated the years. And as Amy's story shows, the gentle assurance of God's fidelity and love has been a constant, especially present the day she made her vows. Wartime austerity in rural Scotland meant the altar could only be decorated with flowers from the garden; wintry weather meant the garden was as bare and unadorned as the altar would be. And Amy resigned herself to this - flowers, after all, were not the essence of the commitment she was about to make, merely the icing on the day's cake. But unknown to her another novice had found a patch of snowdrops, which she had dug up and brought into the house, nurturing them in the linen cupboard so that they would flower in time for the vows ceremony. And so, to Amy's delighted surprise, there were flowers around the altar, their delicate loveliness speaking of God's love, shining through Elise's thoughtful kindness.
Elijah encountered God, not in earthquakes or fires, but in a gentle breeze: and Amy discovered proof of God's covenant love, not in the miraculous, unseasonal flowering of roses or gladioli, but in snowdrops - ordinary, tiny snowdrops, gathered with love. And that is how God's covenant is so often revealed - in ordinary, tiny tokens of loveliness and love; tokens so easily overlooked, except by hearts honed and able to see and appreciate them. And then, as Rumi once wrote, life becomes one in which every object, every being, is a jar full of delight...
Today, I'm not surrounded by snowdrops, but from my window I can see magnolia buds, and I have some daffodils just beginning to flower. Today, these are my jars full of delight! And today I'm reflecting on where I discern God's fidelity; what, for me, are the tiny tokens or sudden reminders of everlasting covenant love. There have been many, over the years - and rather like those snowdrops, they've all been unasked for, unearned and unexpected - and so much the lovelier for that!
And you; what are God's tokens of faithful love for you?
To raise His kingdom through the voice He has given me.
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