Spring comes to Michigan in fits and starts. One does well to be patient.
So today I watch the snow bury the crocus buds. All day, the flakes blow and fall.
I used to think of winter as a time of sleep or even death. But having watched winter up close, I've come to realize that even as the animal breathes and its heart beats in its hibernation, there is something vital in a living plant even in winter.
There are cells alive to the sun, exulting in the lengthening days. So still, so quiet, so patient, they are poised for growth, ready to tumble into it when the light comes warm.
There are deep mosses, green leaves under the snow; and sweet sap in deep roots is ready to rush toward the sky.
Beyond the reach of my sight, there is life.
Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1