I spent most of Saturday outside. It looked nothing like spring, but I could feel it. By afternoon we had taken off our jackets and were warming ourselves with shovels and gardening gloves.
The firstborn and I cleared away some of the invasive (but gorgeous) vine that blankets the edge of our property.
Do you remember, I asked her, what the porcelain berries look like? Do you remember that china blue?
They looked fake, she says.
Which is true. And telling. The most beautiful things look unreal to us. Maybe they are a part of some other reality. Maybe we are too, for that matter.
The dead vines were papery and grey in our hands, but when I ripped one open we could see a shocking, acid green.
They only look dead, my daughter said with round eyes.
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We are in those last days of winter. Those days when the cold has moved deep into my bones, and I no longer believe in spring.
I mean this quite literally. Three days ago I had myself convinced that the bleached yellow shade of our lawn was a sign it would never turn green. We killed it, I thought. Too many weeds, too many autumn leaves, and we killed it.
Today, I noticed a spotty green haze. Just here and there. And I remembered: I have seen resurrection. There is such a thing.
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Born in late summer, we named her Spring. Our last baby, our second daughter, she is yet everything new to us.
Before she was ever conceived “My beloved spoke and said to me, ‘Arise my darling, my beautiful one, come with me. See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come …” (Song of Songs 2: 10-12).
For a hundred and one foolish reasons I had not allowed myself to want another child, but I knew what those words meant. I bought a tiny, pink sweater, and I hid it in my dresser drawer.
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Sometimes winter fools us. We are taken in by the surface of things, and death seems total and irreversible.
The truth is, we aren’t waiting for resurrection. We are living it.
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“On that day living water will flow out from Jerusalem … in summer and in winter.”
Zechariah 14:8
I got married in March because I love the time of year when the warm air starts to show up windows are opened a crack. The skies are blue and buds are seen through the snow.
I enjoyed that verse!
It is a strangely beautiful time of year – there is something about this time of transition that allows us to see behind the scenes, so to speak. As if the essence of creation is revealed only in-between seasons.
Happy anniversary!
I loved this so much. It’s a time in my spirit I am tempted to feel that it is always winter, never spring. But your reminder that resurrection isn’t just coming, that it is already in us, beginning is filling me with hope on this cold March morning.
Brenna, I think I hated every March I spent in Chicago. It was always the longest, hardest month for me. Hang in there! Spring (in every sense of the word) will come. It always comes, and, yes, it is already here: “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?”
Perfect timing! It is amazing the transformation that happens in hiding under dead leaves and at the same time right before our eyes if we just dig in a little. You’re adventures this spring with your littlest one will be so fantastic and refreshing I’m sure! God bless.
Thank you, Rachel! Yes, I think Elsa and I are going to have a lot of fun this spring. 🙂
Just beautiful. That Song of Songs passage has a lot of meaning for me too. 🙂 I love the prolific analogies gardening has to offer.
Thanks, Samantha! And, yes, I think it’s very significant that the first task God ever gave us was to care for a garden.
you made me believe in spring again!! I lose hope that it will ever show up here in the cold PNW. So Thank you. and your little Spring daughter is just the sweetest and I can not wait to hold her!
beautiful.
(i’m dying to take more pictures of Elsa -she’s changed so much and 6 mos is my favorite age!)
I wish you could, Kelli. She’s at the cutest stage, and my camera skills are so inadequate.
I love this. Love that you named her Spring. Driving home from work today, I noticed the Bradford pear trees are blooming. When did that happen? Spring springs forth, a visible sign of an invisible reality.
“A visible sign of an invisible reality.” Yes.
so beautiful!
Thank you!
Between winter and spring, there are moments of scattered days that I feel in my bones something….something…..what is it?….. perhaps, as you say, it is resurrection being lived. It kept me company all morning this morning.
Thank you for this beautiful post and the passages you chose.
You are welcome, Marilyn!
“For a hundred and one foolish reasons I had not allowed myself to want another child, but I knew what those words meant. I bought a tiny, pink sweater, and I hid it in my dresser drawer.” This line with the image of a hidden pink sweater is so poignant, Christie. A good reminder that even though it’s hard to believe, spring is coming…and so is our celebration of the resurrection. But as you said, we are living it now. I needed that!
I’m so glad, Christiana! Thanks for stopping by.