I am well aware of the opinions of folks who live outside the Midwest: that we who live here are a bunch of hayseeds. That may be, but I can’t think of a place I’d rather live. Who cares about culture and sophistication when the annual miracles unfolding around me each spring bear witness to the awesome ingenuity of my Maker. They remind me hope does come after dark and bitter cold. They remind me if God cares enough to restore my peonies and lilacs and hydrangeas–stripped of their glory and buried beneath rotting dirt and leaves for months–how much more will He restore you and me?
As the sun rises a little earlier in the morning…as it soars a little higher in the sky…as it sets a little more gently in the evenings…its light beckons even the most stubborn perennials to poke their heads above the wintry muck. As the sun gently prods them forth, it reminds me that the Son never gives up on a single one of us…He will shine His light until we have the strength to push ourselves up out of the darkness…He will wait for us and return to us each morning…warming us and nurturing us with His adoring, unceasing love.
I’ll leave you with a few photos of the buds and such from my garden this week, and with one of my favorite passages from Hosea 6:1-3: “Come, let us return to the Lord. He has torn us to pieces, but He will heal us; He has injured us, but He will bind up our wounds. After two days He will revive us; on the third day He will restore us, that we may live in His presence. Let us acknowledge the Lord; let us press on to acknowledge Him. As surely as the sun rises, He will appear; he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth.”
magnolia buds (they are so soft and fuzzy!)
daylillies peeking out from the winter brush
sweet peonies…my fav’s
a red fire maple tree bud
