The Season of Hope

We had a fire in our fireplace last night.  Uhm. It’s mid April.  We pack and unpack our winter jackets. We wait and wait for the last frost to plant our tender flowers only to turn around and cover them for threat of another frost. Uhm. It’s mid April. So what’s the bottom line.

just. breathe. 

Ever since Resurrection Sunday my spirit has been buzzing with the same Hope that creation sings out day after day. We laugh about blackberry winter, and dogwood winter, and who knows how many more, but we all are Looking for Something. We just know that winter won’t last. Even the brave pansies and daffodils stand strong in their stamina and  say, “hold on, keep believing.”

where does hope come from? 

Seasons are  a gift. We are fickle, we humans. Always wanting, wanting. As soon as summer heat hits we will be crying out for the winter chill we are pushing away right now. But seasons gift us with the reality of instability, unknowns, unseens. Whether it is a snow day or frost in April, we remain slightly off kilter. It’s a holy kindness to remind us of simple truths.

we are not in control…

Therein lies the hope. Seasons don’t make me think of global warming or El Nino or tornado seasons. They make me think of, well, God. God is with me. I am ever moving through seasons. Every person I know is “transitioning”.  Coming out of or going into some new phase of the journey.  God has been good to me, and us, in every season. Whether I knew or loved Him in any given season, He was still, is still, the Loving Hand that has warmed me in winter and delighted me in spring.

he is so beautiful. 

So today I will ride in my jeep with the top off and my winter coat on. I want to be like the pansies and the daffodils. Strong in believing. He’s got me. He is my hope. In every season of the soul.


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