All winter we’ve been tending to the Sam tree in the front yard, waiting for this moment. There’s anxiety in the dormant winter months, wondering if this will be the year that death will prevail over life, wondering if we’ll be stuck in a cycle of dreary hopelessness.
Shelley famously asked, “If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?” and in the dark months we wonder: can it? is it coming? And then, overnight, the yard turns gaudy green and buds appear on the trees and it’s suddenly time to plant the garden and we dance in the sunshine, celebrating the Resurrection that has indeed taken place once again.
New life begins so small, so fragile, but Spring is not a time for fear. Each bud, each sprout reminds us that death is never the end of the story. Anne Lamott recently tweeted, “Death is the end of dying, NOT of life. Is the beginning, like the cross.” What a perfect reminder for show-off spring, for somber Lent. Thanks to the cross, fragile little lives can rest easy: the end of every story is LIFE. Winter comes, but spring is never far behind.
My heart is full this spring as I rejoice in the exhausting daily life of the child I hold in my arms, and as I rest in the perfect everlasting life of the child I hold in my heart. And our story continues…
Morning by morning, new mercies I see:
All I have needed, Thy hand has provided;
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!