a february lulu
to our valentines
Dear Family and Friends
Here we are at the end of February. The sun is shining here in the UK, finally, although it was not a totally grey winter and I find myself so thankful that spring is very near.
Charlie gave me a lovely Valentines Day card filled with White Christmas Rose petals, we had dinner and our new favourite restaurant in Marylebone , called, Braciloe, of course Italian, fresh pasta. We also found out that our Deirdra is pregnant with our fourth grandchild, so we are grateful for the love that God graciously gives. For myself, I have gotten more involved with our Church and had the pleasure of being a part of a wonderful Valentines Day Tea party for the seniors in our community. We had little sandwiches, scones with jam and clotted cream. We danced to old Frank Sinatra songs and the highlight was to dance with a 93 year old woman who wore me out. We listened and heard stories, like how these two ladies as children were allowed to play in the Underground Tube stations for hours traveling around London until evening because during the war, that was the safest place to play, amazing. So February had some truly special moments. Love can be beautiful, with lovely cards, it can be fun dancing and meeting new friends and it can be quiet, just reflecting on the hope of new life and all that God gives us. I hope the New Year is bringing you the warmth and hope of Gods love.
Recently I started rereading Anne Bronte’s novel ‘The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.’ Helen, a hurt, abused rejected young widow is struggling to love again. Gilbert is pursing her; she has always kept him at a distance. Then, in the climax of the novel, Helen reaches to…
“pluck that beautiful half-blown Christmas-rose that grew upon the little shrub without, just peeping from the snow that had hitherto, no doubt, defended it from the frost, and was now melting away in the sun. Pluck it, however, she did, and having gently dashed the glittering powder from its leaves, approached it to her lips and said:
‘This rose is not so fragrant as a summer flower, but it has stood through hardships none of them could bear: the cold rain of winter has sufficed to nourish it, and its faint sun to warm it; the bleak winds have not blanched it, or broken its stem, and the keen frost has not blighted it. Look, Gilbert, it is still fresh and blooming as a flower can be, with the cold snow even now on its petals. — Will you have it?’” chapter 53
This is how Priscilla Mary Rose has touched me for 34 years. I quoted Bronte’s Helen in my card. She is a gift. I pray that all of you have such a gift in your lives.