Complicated emotions in the park

Last Thursday I'd had two full days "in the office" and needed to get out. I'd been watching the weather because when you're going to ride your bike several kilometres, you'd rather be doing it at a sunny or still 14˚C than at 0˚C with precipitation or wind. Anyway, Thursday's forecast looked great, so I took off to the park late morning. Turned out to be a good few hours in the park. I'm gradually getting my bike stamina back and rode around 14km.

The park at this time of year is rather brown and dreary. It, like the rest of us, is just waiting for the start of spring. 

In another six weeks or so this area will be flooded with bikes and picnickers sitting under divine pale pink cherry blossoms.

But there were some early glimpses of spring.

 I assume these are types of plum blossoms.

These are the two seats that I've sat on many times before. In summer they are a beautiful shaded spot surrounded by lush, green trees. At this time of year, the sun is welcome, but the outlook a little dull. It was good to be back at another familiar place, a place I'd dreamed about while we were away and ached to be able to visit again. However, my mood was rather morose. 

Complicated feelings caused by a bundle of small and bigger things, including the post-transition-slump. It was a great comfort to be able to reach out virtually to two friends who have become especially dear in recent months. I was feeling inadequate and unworthy. While sitting on this (cold) familiar bench, my friends loved me unconditionally all the way from Australia by "hearing" my pain and telling me not to apologize for the emotional dump. My friends are teaching me another level of being vulnerable that I didn't know I could or needed to go to.

I put this out there, not for sympathy or reader love, but to keep this real. I'm not a superhero and I don't want to pretend that I am. I'm sorry if my post last Tuesday about our eldest son leaving home made you feel that I had it all together. If anything, the past few months have revealed to me even more deeply how flawed and vulnerable I am.

But like all who trust the God of the Bible, I cling to his adequacy, his immovability. I want to be like the wise man of Matthew 7 who had his foundation on rock and his house was not smashed.