It's been a long, gray winter.
So much grief. So much excavation, sorting through patterns, sifting for truth.
But spring is coming. The subterranean level of my heart is shifting, and I am finding a firmer place to stand. On snowy days, butterflies emerge. On private blogs, freedom blooms.
How like God to give me hope everywhere I look:
in the forms I expect, like these first blooms on the trees at the end of our street;
in places I thought were unfruitful, like this lilac bush in the front yard;
in ways I didn't expect but delight me so, like this first ladybug on the first weeds in my garden;
and in rocky, barren spots where nothing else is growing, like this dirt pile in our backyard.
Such brilliant colors, such sweet breezes, so much life.
Spring is coming.