Ahem. Hello. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’m sorry. I hope this post will get the words flowing again. Thank you for being patient and sticking with me; I appreciate y’all!
I wrote this after picking the first crocuses this year (February 19), shared it on Instagram a couple of weeks later, and finally am getting around to sharing it here.
Spring is coming. Spring is always coming.
I know that, believe that. At least, in my head. At least, when it relates to the weather, the seasons. But I tend to forget–forget to live in the reality of–the fact that it relates to life as well.
Maybe right now, you’re facing summer. Everything is going up in flames and you’re burning out, or you’re lazily drifting along, not knowing what to do, and as lukewarm as the water leaking out of a sun-soaked garden hose.
Maybe you’re in fall/autumn. Things are changing; things are dying.
Maybe it’s winter. The cold wind numbs you, the sorrows come as thick as the snow, the darkness has stifled the light. . .
But, dear one, spring is coming.
We spoke in Sunday school of Job, of how he knew that his Redeemer lived and would come and would reign and would make all things new and right.
Then I arrive home to find yellow crocuses basking in sunlight, and the promise swells in my chest, filling my lungs with joyous hope.
Spring is coming.
My Redeemer is coming.
He will make all things new and right.