Ever since Friday, when I didn’t write on Kate Motaung’s Five Minute Friday prompt, meet. Archaically, meet was used as an adjective meaning fitting, suitable, or proper. (Thus, in the King James Version of the Bible, God says He will make Adam “an help meet for him.” Eve was appropriate, fitting, suitable to help Adam.)
This spring, the ground is perforated with little round holes, and ground and trees are littered with little brown shells as the thirteen-year cicada nymphs emerge from their long sojourn underground, split out of their skins, and look with red eyes upon the outer world.
Each day, their chorus is a little louder as they crowd, invisible, in the trees and combine their voices into this one summer song — a song their children will not sing until I am in my 40s.
To me, there is a sense of meetness about this: it is fitting and appropriate and suitable that cicadas should raise their song in these trees, this year.
They remind me that the God who draws them from thirteen years of blind burrowing in the earth to become winged creatures of song in the sunlit world is the God who makes everything beautiful in its time.
Everything. Beautiful. In its time.
©2015 by Stacy Nott