I want to be spring. Here in this place God has for me, I want to bloom.
I want to be a robin’s first appearance of orange-chested hope telling others that winter is waning, an end is in sight.
I want to force myself, under God’s guidance, up through the dark earth green and growing, healing to the hearts who see me, the first blooming bulbs of spring, crocuses.
This time of the year I grow so stale and tired and stagnate and weary. I want newness, life and color. I want to bust out of winter into the hoped for beauty that is spring. Alas, it isn’t that simple.
Spring builds slowly. Buds do not automatically appear but take time to prepare through the long, dark days of resting winter. They must rest. Robins must fly away, otherwise when we see them, we overlook them. Crocuses and other bulbs must lie invisible for a season or two, letting nutrients sink in hard.
I too must go through winters. Even in the mild Northwest I must be chilled and numb, if even for a few days. And in the darkness, away from the crowds of watching eyes, I am in the presence of God.
It is He who grows me into a spring of His design. He makes me the encouraging sign of spring to others. Hope grows. Hope in Christ is what my tell-tale sign of spring must be. And I must be spring where He has placed me.
What about you? What signs are you revealing to others that show how the spring of the soul is even now bursting out of the ground?