This morning we drove into town to do some errands and I nearly smiled myself silly at the leaves on the trees, little puffs-of-air leaves filling the branches like green clouds settling down on the trees. And dandelions and forsythia and brilliant yellow daffodils glowed like scattered decorations  along the road.

After a long winter and what seemed like never-to-arrive warm weather, spring has finally come again and filled me this morning with inexpressible joy. And I just didn’t want to go back into the house.

But I had to because there was work to do. Then as I sat before the screen looking at this picture we took on our walk in Lazybrook Park, it all came together. I wondered then about how influential are the things, people and places we surround ourselves with determining how we view everything else. That made me think about  how we let those things even affect our moods.

I would never have expected how researching the Irish people and history would creep into my own language. I was in the store looking for a basket. My husband, just over my shoulder heard me ask the lady “Do you have any wee baskets, just a wee basket like so?” shaping it in the air with my hands. The way character I am writing about might say it.

Nor did I expect that rush of joy I felt when I saw how changed the trees were, the bushes were, the roadsides were…color spelling J-O-Y to me today. I was giddy grinning my way out the car window as I drank in the cloudless blue sky, the green puffs just painted on the trees and the white blossoms covering other trees along the way.

Then I wondered just how much permission I have given the world around me to affect my mood. Shouldn’t my mood, my perception of my circumstances, be determined by something more stable than the weather or characters I might be writing about? Shouldn’t it be more influenced by what I believe, down deep. Shouldn’t it be more affected by my values?

So still giddy  from the beauties in my garden, in the park and on the way to do errands, I will pause a bit to praise the God who painted it all, just so amazingly beautiful. My God is always good and kind and loving and caring about me, even when the sky is filled with clouds. Even when I miss someone or misunderstand someone or feel misunderstood.

And the God Who made it all, by Whom all things consist, cares about you. Now that is something that ought to make us all giddy, to know that no matter what anyone else might think or say, God loves us. And personally, I think spring is just one of the many ways He shows us.

Just something I thought about this beautiful May afternoon,

Carol Brennan King