The scenery driving home from work this afternoon was ethereal. Mist developed from the quickly melting snow, coupled with over an inch of rain. The woods outside our little corner of suburbia looked magical.
I pulled over and snapped a quick photo. It seemed to me that the woods hid a secret.
We ask: “When will it ever be spring?”
The trees stand mute (or so we think) not telling what they know. They listen to their Creator.
“Soon. Not yet.”
I know that the longer days and higher sun angle will work their magic. The sap will rise. Leaves will bud. Every corner of the woods will show new life.
The woods seem weary of waiting. The cold is tiring. The mists cling. The ground is cold, muddy, and unyielding.
For me, this Lenten season is all about the waiting, the preparation, the listening, the acceptance of the Creator’s direction and guidance. The timing is God’s. The task of waiting is tedious.
For now, I wait. I watch. I pray.
The knowledge of the trees is not mine. Soon. Not yet.
This season of promise,
of empty boughs and grey branches
cries out for You,
Renewer of all.
We cry too
for new growth
and new tasks,
while our roots grow deep and strong
and we wait…
New life beckons.
Soon. Not yet.