One of the most beautiful things about living in the midwest, where all four seasons are duly represented, is the rebirth of the earth. To me, winter is a time of rest, not that this past winter was very restful, but like the earth around me, I normally feel less urgency, I refill my expended energy, I am quiet and thoughtful.
When a taste of spring comes, like the buds of the trees warmed by the sun, I feel an awakening in my psyche, my pulse quickens and my step is lighter and there is hope in my heart.
My first robin sighting — which I have not yet seen on this day, March 11, 2015 — brings the knowledge that the earth is soft enough to yield enough food, and that nests are being fussed over, and our mailbox post will soon get its unique patina from our robin’s morning droppings.
When the goldfinch sheds its drab, olive winter coat, we shed ours, announcing, if the goldfinch can, then we can, too, and promptly store our winter jackets, and tuck our woolen mittens away, and pull out our sweaters and let them warm us when the cold wind blows even in springtime. Because the hope of spring doesn’t mean that cold winds won’t blow, just that they won’t last forever, and get this, we are strong enough to withstand those cold days. We’ve seen it happen year after year, struggle after struggle — life renewed.
I love Bernie Siegel’s analogy, because, renewal of spirit and overcoming adversity goes hand in hand. And seeing how our earth renews itself through the unique genius of our Creator, is a message of hope from God. We learn from the daffodil and the lilacs bushes that there is always hope in tomorrow — there will be warm days, love can blossom, our health can be renewed through the care of the Great Physician.
From a long winter’s sleep will come blooms stretching and yawning in the morning light, alive in the presence of the sun.