Spring is here officially, if not experientially. With our clocks moved forward, daylight is lengthening as our gaze turns toward budding trees and sprouting bulbs. The seasons cycle through the gathering of autumn, quiet of winter, renewal of spring, and the growth of summer. Leaves from buds, fruit from seeds, life from death.
Similarly, our lives are roundabout journeys through the spectrum of human experience. There are seasons to our circumstance. And in each moment, there’s a God who is there. Someone who sees and enters into our tragedy, triumph, panic, and joy. A Savior who offers His kindness — who knows who we really are, yet is glad to be with us. (Zeph. 3:17)
This day we can settle into our season, trusting God in our circumstance. We can safely dwell in the present, for we are not alone. (Deut. 31:8)
Stretched and weathered,
this soul-spire’s shoots
have budded and grown into
resilient, persistent, obedient
in their nourishing, seasonal fruit.
Come and eat —
celebrate this feast of providence!
Let juice drip from nose and chin,
our consumption heralding
a joyful conclusion.
For this end is a beginning;
a requisite closing that yields to
fresh expressions of wonder
as wild circumstance carries
hope’s seed into
the void of longing.
This is a sacred, fertile interlude —
a season to dwell.
“For everything there is a season… a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;” (Ecclesiastes 3:1–2, ESV)