In Hard Places
by Meg Dixon
These frail shoots have sought, pushed
Through heard earth, blocking stones.
So too am I frail, seeking, pushing.
But the warm showers of Your love,
Your living waters,
Have softened hard ground,
Made way between stones.
And I own now the resting time
In hard places, stone blocked,
Needful to hold impatience, over-eagerness.
So was I, not trapped, held back,
But gently nourished
Till God’s time for my blossoming,
(written on 11th Feb 2004 at Loyola Hall after seeing mauve crocuses pushing through a bed of stony soil in February)