Walking The Easter Garden
Pentecost
The Windchimes
The windchimes rest quietly against my trellis of jasmine.
The vine holds them – green, fragrant, alive.
Most of the day, they are still.
Nothing stirs them unless something unseen passes through.
And then the air shifts.
Not dramatic.
Not loud.
Just enough.
Unexpectedly the chimes begin to sing.
The sound is gentle,
almost hidden –
like a lullaby.
It does not announce itself.
It simply reminds you that something is moving,
even when you cannot see it.
Scripture calls the Spirit –
“Ruah” –
breath,
wind,
the movement of God across what is still.
At Pentecost, it was not only flame
but wind that filled the room.
A Presence felt before it was understood.
The Spirit does not arrive on command.
The Spirit moves like wind through the jasmine —
touching what is willing,
stirring what has grown quiet.
The chimes do not create the breeze.
They do not strain to make music.
They hang where they are placed,
woven into the vine.
And when the breath of God passes through,
they answer.
There is something deeply peaceful about that.
To be connected to what is unseen.
To bend without breaking.
To allow the Love between the Father
and the Son to move where it will.
This week it is enough to remain still –
entwined like the vine,
open like the chime –
trusting that even the smallest of stirring carries the presence of the Spirit.
Perhaps this is enough….