Petrichor

pet·ri·chor
ˈpeˌtrīkôrnoun
  1. —A pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather.
  2.       I was thinking today, as I took my early morning stroll, about the acute senses I have.  It is almost like when someone becomes blind, their sense of hearing is more sensitive.  Though I didn’t lose a sense, my loss increased my need to experience life, in spite of death.  I see colors I never saw before, I hear the songs of birds in a way I never did before and I smell things I never realized before.
  3. Which brings us to “petrichor.”
  4.      This is an amazing word I discovered.  There is science behind this word.  It is a word that has been around about as long as I have been alive.  What I found fascinating was that there was a word for one of my favorite smells.  When water hits grass that is parched and dry from months of drought it releases oils into the air.  A sweet aroma, that is like no other.
  5.      As I was reading this tidbit of information, it began to occur to me how this is so much like this journey as a widow.  I am like a meadow, as a wife it was green for the most part.  Living day to day, absorbing the light (God’s love) and water (love He gives us here on earth).  Then one day, a piece of that love here was gone.  I still have light and water, but it isn’t the same.  For a time we dry up.  This meadow of our lives catches the light but somehow we just don’t know how to absorb the love (water) we still have here.  So, we become parched, brittle and feel purposeless, dead and empty.  It takes a lot for our friends and family to even choose to visit this parched place we’ve become.  And time drags by.
  6.      At some point, tears replaced the source of water that once kept this meadow, of my life, green.  They are not enough to bring it back to the way it was though.  Even the ones that flood with torrents of waves.  However, something wafts from the dry, brown grasses of that meadow.  An aroma that is both sweet and life giving. The waters of love we once knew, are now just vapours in the air, but as they build with each memory, they become so heavy that they fall on this parched place.  And I realize how vital it is to allow love here to begin to soak in.  Though the love of family and friends is not the same as the love I once knew, it is life giving, especially when combined with the light of heaven.  And the aroma of these waters on this dry place is sweet and beyond description.
  7.      This meadow that is my life, is beginning to green.  And though it will never look the same, it will be alive.  Remember the sweetness of the parched meadow that begins to absorb the waters.  May you too release sweet aromas, where once you were bearly alive.  May others be drawn closer to God’s light, because what comes from this barren place is irresistible and beautiful.  May others know, by the way you live, that God is good and His light is true, even in the desert days, parched and dark.
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