This is a post from a year ago that not many people saw. I re-worked it to share with you again while I am out of town this week.
It snowed again last week, each unique flake adding its beauty to the whole. The trees stood solid, accepting the coldness stored up for spring’s bounty. We live in maple syrup country and the sap is running, silently dripping from the taps.
We’ve now passed the one-year mark of sickness, isolation and unrest. Fear has settled in our spirits like winter’s deep chill in our bones. The temptation lurks to give up our hope; to give in to the surly demon of despair lying in wait for our souls.
But the sap is rising.
We know the pattern, have seen it played out in scripture and in our own lives: out of darkness, light; out of death, life; out of grief, joy. All of these gifts only appreciated because of what came before.
I have seen winter feed spring in my own soul; have felt hope’s sweetness rising under the cold crush of circumstances. I wish I had understood sooner, the feast to come.
The sap is rising. There is a current, a warmth, a Spirit who feeds a tender hope rising within us, though we are still in the cold grip of an impossibly hard year.
May this rising hope produce in us a sweetness for the soul and a balm for this aching world. May it strengthen us to share the hope of spring for those longing for resurrection.
The sap is rising, a stirring of life out of a brutal viral winter, a steady provision slowly filling our waiting buckets, proclaiming that warmth and life are coming to us who wait with open hearts to share the bounty so freely given.
The sap is rising like an Easter gift, and so will we. So will we.