We had a quiet Shabbat. Clouds paraded from south to north all morning. Just before noon, I looked up to see rain splattering and dripping, sliding down dusty windows. For weeks now storm clouds drifted past our Missouri home. In faraway places, they dumped mountains of snow and rivers of water. But here, dry has been the operative word.
Instead of rain or snow, crispy grass and crunchy leaves cover the fields and forest spaces. Our beige-brown world has waited breathlessly for water to paint it green again. The promise of spring is counted out on the calendar. Fifteen days –Three fives – Triple grace is needed.
It’s been a strange season, not at all as the almanac predicted. “A cold and snowy winter ahead. Lots of ice coming,” they said.
Well, it’s been cold, but not as cold as normal. Icy? There have been some icy roadways at times. But the magic of ice crystals hanging from fence wires and tree limbs, our cars, and mailboxes transformed into crystalline art forms, our driveways toboggan runs? No. None of that.
Some say it’s global warming. Others say it’s global cooling. I guess it depends on where you live, but we’ve seen little of either one.
One red-headed woodpecker with the most brilliant deep red-head and striking black and white feathered body has been the hit of the season. He’s taken winter residence somewhere in our tree line and visits our birdfeeder several times a day. He is unlike the other woodpeckers with their orange-red heads and black and white pin-striped bodies. He is gracious and generous. He allows the tiny sparrows and rich red cardinals to share the feeder while he eats. He doesn’t threaten them or chase them off. He never makes a pig of himself only munching on a few seeds and then flying off to the tree line. Maybe he’s shy. I don’t know. He is a feast for the eyes in this pale world.
Blue, I see blue. Patches of grey-white clouds pull away in the emerging sunlight. Small puddles mirror the moving ceiling overhead. There aren’t any water-filled ditches, but the air is cleaner and there just might be enough moisture to bring green grass sprouts out of hiding.
The slow dance to spring is making its first gentle movement here this afternoon. God’s eternal cycle of seasons continues. He is reminding us of His faithfulness regardless of world circumstances. Forever coursing on with His changeless order and power. Our Provider, our Redeemer, our Creator, God Almighty, Humble Savior, Teacher, and Friend.
Big bangs are for the faith-filled atheists. We children of God know there isn’t any bang that could result in centuries of such variety and order. We giggle with delight at what our Abba has done and look forward with joy to the arrival of another Spring. Fragrant, colorful flowers, warm breezes, birdsong, and the smell of new-mown grass—they are all on the way.
Start dusting off your porch chairs. We are in the countdown. I can’t wait.
Have a blessed week.