The daffodils are gone now. They have given way to the flowers of the pink Japanese magnolias, the fluffy white flowers of the Bradford pear trees, the bright yellow vines of the forsythia bush, and the soft purple flowers of the red bud trees. The green grass is poking through the ground. Spring has sprung.
The certain hope of early spring has given way to sight. My eyes now see what I held in faith. “That didn’t take long”—I say now that my faith has become sight.
My job is no longer hoping, but rather rejoicing. I hear His quiet whisper: “Enjoy! Set aside your questions, your wrestlings, and your sorrows, now is the time for delighting. Enjoy My magnificent gift of spring.”
The breeze is brisk and fresh and clean. The sun shines full through the leafless trees and warms my face. The pinks, the yellows, the purples, and the greens declare His praises every day whether there are dull, gray clouds or bright blue skies.
It is mid-March in Tennessee. The joy of spring has come.
It is different than the Minnesota springs of my youth, where spring was melting snow, lighter coats, and deep breaths that no longer hurt your throat. Color would still be a long way off but the snow would be melting bit by bit. And it was good.
Ahhh, but to live in Tennessee where color comes alive in February, where every week for weeks on end new colors sprout while we wait for leaves to return instead of snow to melt.
Even after 32 years, the joy of a Tennessee spring is still glorious to me. May I always delight in its wonder.
