Together on the Journey:
A Weekly Blog 

It’s been a solid month since I’ve been on my bike. Between bad weather and a nasty cold that refused to relent, I’ve not ridden since Palm Sunday.

But today was the day.

I retrieved my green Linus from the shed, checked the tires, and headed out the end of my driveway. I relished the early morning sun, the sounds of birds chirping, and the feeling of the wind on my face. I breathed in spring, as much as I could, and was thoroughly enjoying all of my senses feeling truly alive.

And then I came to the giant hill.

The hill on Bloor Street which stretches from the Humber River up to the cemetery is pretty legendary. It’s literally the hill that seems to never end. And while I’ve tried to think of ways to get around this hill, there really is no other better way to get to work, and so I began the slow ascent. It always seems to take me forever, and my lungs burn, but it always ends, and I am always encouraged that I can do it. It’s the beginning of the season, and the more times I bike up the hill, the easier it will get. Working through this hard thing is always a good reminder that things will get easier. Process is good, and spring is leading me through this process of learning again how to bike up this hill.

I want to share with you a poem by Joyce Rupp called A Springtime Prayer. It’s a little bit about spring cleaning and a little bit about renewal, and it was speaking to me today when I was thinking about spring biking.

– Jess

A Springtime Prayer
by Joyce Rupp

Ever-renewing and energizing Creator,
Come, stir in my dormant spiritual limbs.

Wake up my tired prayer.
Revive my weary efforts of care.
Sing hope into my discouragement.

Wash my dusty, drab attitude
with the cleansing rains of your vision.

Go deep to my roots and penetrate my faith
with the vibrancy of your grace.

Shake loose the old leftover oak leaves
of my tenacious ego-centeredness.

Coax joy to sprout from my difficulties.

Warm the buds of my relationships
so they bloom with healthy love.

Clear out my wintered debris
with the wild breeze of your liberating presence.

Nudge me, woo me, entice me, draw me to you.

I give you my trust and my gratitude as you
grace my slowly thawing spirit.

Light-filled Being, my Joy and my Hope,
let the greening in me begin.

From Out of the Ordinary: Prayers, Poems, and Reflections for Every Season by Joyce Rupp, (c) 2000.