Yet…You see me.

Lord, I can’t see You; yet You see me – help me to remember that.

Hugh Barney, 2015, Celtic Daily Prayer Book 2.

I am so pleased to see April! I hear you already … “but you can’t ‘see’ a month”. Oh, but you can! April comes from the Latin Aprillis – meaning to open, to blossom. Everywhere I see flowers and leaves opening, unfurling, blossoming.

I take my steaming mug of tea, wrap myself up in my thick, woollen cardigan and walk to the corner of my garden. Here a neighbour’s white cherry tree overhangs my summer swinging chair. No cushions now, but I lie on the empty chair and smile at the bountiful, clustering, fresh white faces above me. The little apple tree in my garden has leaves, as does the small red cherry tree. In a few days they will burst into a blush of pink.

My favourite tree to see at this time of year is the magnolia – especially the ‘Soulangeana’. Each year it is crowned with white and pink, tulip like blossoms. You have to be quick. They last so briefly. But the sight will last in your memory all year. My Mum and Dad in Law have a wonderful magnolia. I missed it last year due to lockdown, but saw it last week.

I also missed the magnolias in my local country park last year. As I walk the dogs in the parkland, I see the towering Cedar of Lebanon over the walled gardens. Last March I could see the buds on the tops of the magnolias – just peeping over the top of the walls. I planned a visit inside the gardens the next weekend – but lock down happened. The parklands and gardens were closed.

Though I could not visit, I knew they were blossoming. I imagined what they would be like. I described them to myself, like Mary Lennox describing the garden to poorly Colin in ‘The Secret Garden’. Through all of April I kept thinking of them, knowing they would be opening and blossoming. I saw them in my mind, if not with my eyes.

Sometimes I can lose sight of where I am in life. Sometimes there seems no rhyme or reason to my day or stage of life. There can be whispers of insignificance, overlooked, forgotten. Does anyone ‘see’ me?

Hugh Barney’s thought reminded me that though I can’t see God, He sees me. He never loses sight of me. He who made me, never forgets. He knows where I am. He knows the number of hairs on my head. The number breaths I take. The thoughts I have – even before I think them (Psalm 139).

A scared and lonely girl called Hagar, who was pregnant, confused and running far from home, was seen by Him. God saw her. Spoke to her. Comforted her. Rescued her. She called Him El – roi – the God who sees (Genesis 16 v13).

Today I walked in the park. The gardens were open. I went in. Guess what I saw …..