I am sitting here in my living room, looking out our double front window at the lush spring bloom waving in the wind. The grass is full of a variety of plants, from grape hyacinths to dandelions, chickweed to clover–all growing intermixed and bathed in patches of sunlight coming around big fluffy white clouds. The bushes in the yard (most of them) have budded and bloomed into lush greenery again, and some have even blossomed with colorful flowers. For weeks now, I have been watching the slow unfolding and sudden explosion of renewal as the seasons changed.
And for weeks now, I have been contemplating seasons changing. It’s funny–Spring comes on so slowly, yet so quickly too. The daffodils sprout first, but then second winter comes (Hello Tennessee weather! <3). Usually, just before Easter, there’s a final snow. And in a procession, it seems the fullness of the plants in the landscape starts to unravel, snowballing and tumbling into the total greenness we Tennesseans know and love. For weeks, you count and see each new budding with elation–oh look-the clovers! And the self-heal!! Over there—the VIOLETS! *gasps* the dogwood tree!!!
But, for each individual plant, each individual bud, the process is even more exciting. It grows and changes and prepares in the bud, before blooming, developing to the precise point of preparation and then WHAM!–it bursts forth, finally unfurling. Overnight, young, tender new leaves explode out of their buds, still needing growth to maturing, still needing to stretch and flatten into their true shape. In an instant, flowers pop out of their buds, blossoms taking the place of the capsules that filled us with hope of color and beauty. In a moment, it is completely different. We blink, and dramatic change happens faster than we can comprehend it.
This year, I have soaked it in, keeping keen eyes on the changes happening all around me. Because I am changing too, and desperate for change. I have seen–in us and in life, much like in the blooming of spring, change proceeds slowly behind the scenes and then erupts into view in an instant. I’m hoping that I’m starting to walk through a spring of my own, and I have a hunch that it probably aligns with springs of your own, too.
I feel that for many moons now, I have been growing and changing. It’s been visible in some ways and hidden in others. I have known that the change would culminate at some point–that eventually, these changes would prompt a more major turn, a more major shift. Like the difference between winter and spring. Or maybe, bigger than that. However, I haven’t known, and sort of still don’t know, exactly what that change will be. That’s why I haven’t made it already!
And I’m sure that’s why God hasn’t allowed me to know with certainty what the change coming is–because I would make it prematurely, out of my own eagerness but before the right time. Like the first daffodils of the season–the ones you are overjoyed to see, yet saddened, because you know frost will come in the morning and they will wilt after just a few hours.
It brings to mind an old Methodist hymn we used to sing when I was growing up, “Hymn of Promise”. It goes like this:
In the bulb there is a flower; in the seed, an apple tree;
In cocoons, a hidden promise: butterflies will soon be free!
In the cold and snow of winter there’s a spring that waits to be,
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.
There’s a song in every silence, seeking word and melody;
There’s a dawn in every darkness, bringing hope to you and me.
From the past will come the future; what it holds, a mystery,
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.
In our end is our beginning; in our time, infinity;
In our doubt there is believing; in our life, eternity,
In our death, a resurrection; at the last, a victory,
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.
It’s very pretty. And it’s very, good. Encouraging. Hope-filling. It always helps me trust in the Lord when I don’t understand where I’m at right now. When I want to be in a different time, place, or circumstance.
Right now, I’m learning and working on many things that I can’t wait to share with you! I am literally supposed to be eating lunch right now, but I couldn’t contain these things! I think it’s really really time to start sharing consistently, to actually write this blog, to actually build this brand and do these things. (eep!) I’ve got a lot of idea-organizing to do, but I think I’m going to do it somewhat on the fly. It may be under-formed, like the leaves when they first come forth, but everything will mature in its time. 🙂
In a nutshell: I’ve got things to share soon! Quilt designs, artwork things, home projects done and up-and-coming, and thoughtful/prayerful things, too. I’m saying it now, both because I’m so excited to make these things available and to hold myself accountable! I told you I’d share it–so I have to post it!! LOL. I’m a mess!
I hope you are excited, too, and encouraged. Whatever season you’re in, whatever you’re feeling about where you are and what you’re doing: When the time is right, the flowers burst forth. God knows and does what is best for us, including holding us back from a good but premature thing. Don’t let the waiting discourage you! Use the time to seek God, and I promise, you won’t regret it. I’ll see you soon!