May is one of those months that poets like to extol with words like gentle breezes, warming days, newborn critters, beautiful flowers and soft, nourishing rains.  It is the season of Mary, of Mother’s Day, and graduations.  This kind of May can happen here in the northern hemisphere, and is especially welcome after the challenges of what may have been brutal winter storms with their slick highways, power outages, and heavy clothing. Then, if you live in the Kansas plains, as I do, there are the fierce winds and violent spring storms of March and April. 

Living on a farm, I am keenly aware of these seasonal changes.  Yet, especially here, I am also aware of the less subtle weather patterns, sweet-smelling blossoms, the early butterflies, real warmth from the sun. 

Though some spiritual writers advise “Moderation in all things,” Kansas never received that memo.  Maybe your own life is full of the blessings of beautiful May days.  Maybe your personal weather pattern and that of those around you, as well as those on our shared planet, are more like the Kansas style of extremes and abrupt changes. 

We have been celebrating these days of post-Easter reflection on the meaning of Jesus’ resurrection on the lives of those who were his close followers.  It was one of serious ups and downs, and many, many questions.  The news of the empty tomb, while exciting and hopeful, came with seriously disturbing questions: “How can this be?”  The appearance of the Risen One himself with assurances of “Peace!”  The command to go out and spread the Good News.   And one day, in the middle of a discussion, he simply ascends into the clouds and leaves them for good, it seems.  Then came arrests, then great conversions, then more arrests. Up and down, joyous and fearful.  That can be May, as well. 

If you are challenged by not only the unpredictable weather, the daily news, your own questions, and nagging yearnings, you are in good company.  Take May as your teacher and seek the very real gifts it has to offer.  Inhale the aromas of new life and hope.  They are there to sustain us in remembering the promise of Peace.  Savor the warmth that awakens new life, offers invitations of growth and the promise of a fulfilling harvest.  Drink in the beauty, the love poured out in the new life.  Relish the promise of Peace.  Savor those gentle touches of the Spirit that just may erupt into the challenge of Pentecost.

Then get busy--as the angel reminded the huddled disciples staring up to heaven.  No, we’re not called to mindless, frenetic activity. Go, rather, into this season with renewed purpose and hope.  Take the cue of this usually gentle season to savor its blessings and respond to invitations to soak up its warmth and beauty, to listen to its beckoning challenge of growth and purpose. Watch a butterfly, plant a flower, seek the shore or the prairie or the forest.  Linger deeply with this precious time to deepen roots, nourish growth and seek the Source of all that really matters.  Perhaps through these quiet signs, you are being called to offer, re-affirm and deepen a gentle (or not-so-gentle) nudge to consider the call of God’s Spirit to a deepened vocation.

Jane Belanger, OP