Stories are really containers.  Our stories are the boxes and packaging, tape and string that hold the graced moments of our lives.  Stories allow us to re-live and re-tell the joys and sorrows of our days; to remember and share what it was we were doing, seeing, thinking, feeling, or experiencing.  Without stories, our days and the experiences of grace we encounter would be lost.  So, our stories become sacred containers!

Yesterday I walked down to the Mall amid the sun and budding spring trees.  I saw “Beau,” the First dog, walking out on his lawn behind the White House.  I marveled once again at the monument to the great courage of those who fought in WWII, both over seas and on the home front.  I wondered about my future and the future of this country, and I inspected the cherry blossoms on the tidal basin to see when they might be ready for picture perfect photographing.

It was a beautiful day!  I felt free and unhurried and I stopped to take all the pictures I wanted.  While some of the trees are beginning to bud, the cherry blossoms are still tightly closed protecting themselves from the fickle weather.  All the cherry trees, that is, but one – a single tree with southern exposure – was just beginning to expose the tiny cracks in its buds that allowed a bit of pink petal to show through.

It made me think of our lives and how sometimes we hold our stories so tightly that no one or no things can penetrate our hard exteriors.  It’s Lent and Spring is approaching.  It’s time to open up and share with others what has been growing inside of us through the darkness of winter.  Let’s use these days to remember our stories, the graced moments, and to relish how God is present and working in our lives.