As I watched a storm cross the mountains yesterday then move off to the plain..
I thought: it’s not the thunder and lightning that grows the flowers
but the gentleness of rain.
And it made me wonder if we’ve been confused…if we’re getting the message wrong
that it’s not the loud, the brash, the cruel…but the gentle that is strong.
Is there not the roughest soil that a gentle rain can’t smooth?
Is there not the deepest heartache that a gentle touch can’t soothe?
Is there not the deepest sadness that can’t be eased with a gentle rhyme?
Is there not the strongest will that can’t be bent with the gentleness of time?
Don’t the full branches gently bow so we can pick apples off the trees?
And who hasn’t been cooled in the heat of day by a gentle summer breeze?
Gentleness is all around us…if we stop and look a while
A gentle walk, a gentle word, a gentle squeeze…a smile…
Perhaps the value of a life… is in something we already know…
How gently we live…how gently we love…and how gently we let go.
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