I didn’t expect this kind of afternoon. I hadn’t looked at the weather for a few awhile, and since it had been gray and rainy the past couple of days, I assumed we’d have more of the same today. We left the house at 6:30 this morning, so it was still dark. The windshield was frosted, I had on my sweater and coat and was still chilled. We didn’t come back outside till after 11 and I was amazed at how the weather had changed and was pleasantly surprised that I didn’t need a coat or even a sweater at this point—such welcome warmth! So this afternoon the girls decided to do their homework on the lawn to enjoy the sun and to work on their tans, and I put on the first shorts of the year to go help Todd clear the branches and trim the raspberries.
And that’s when I saw this tiny blade of grass amid all the dirt and rotten leaves. Greenery!! I couldn’t believe it—earlier this week we still had snow, yesterday that cold rain, and today: green! I went to get my camera and took a little picture and then I lifted my head and realized the whole lawn was turning green! I know it’s weird that I didn’t see that before, but I honestly hadn’t. I guess I’d just been facing our back pasture as I was clipping the canes, and all of that is still pretty brown. But just looking at our property from a new angle awakened my senses and quickened my heart. The hint of green grass—albeit scraggly and still stretching to come to life again—gladdened my whole being. We made it through this awful winter, I’m outside in my shorts and short sleeves, I’m hearing birds, bees are visiting our hives, I was even glad to see the weeds coming back from hibernation! So exciting. Maybe not for those of you in the southern climate, but for those of us in Montana and other northern states, spring is like a miracle every single year. For me at least.
As I peered down at my tiny blade of grass among the raspberry canes, it occurred to me that sometimes this is the glimmer of hope that lifts our spirits in other ways. Sometimes our tragedies and trials feel like the brown field behind our house—stretching out and out and out, no shard of greenery anywhere. Just dull and lifeless, no color in sight. Sigh. But as I noticed this tiny start, I marveled as I looked around me. They were everywhere, these tiny miracles I’d missed! And I was reminded again that winter always lends itself to spring. Even in the brown of life, miracles—glimmers of hope—are all around us. And the way we choose to direct our gaze makes all the difference in what we see.
I think of so many of our friends who are in the midst of absolute hardship and loss. It feels like winter will never end, that they are in a tundra that will never thaw. But there are blades of hope. A child shares his heartache after months of silently grieving on his own, keeping it all locked inside. We wake up one morning and realize the pain in the incision site is not quite as sharp as it was a week ago. A friend texts or calls. Someone comes to visit unexpectedly. He’s swallowing on his own. She finally took a few steps. We feel like doing something we haven’t done since tragedy hit. A song comes on that seems to be just for us. We feel like going out with friends for the first time in forever—not for long, not for the whole evening, but just to at least get dressed and try. That’s new. And feels surprisingly ok.
I just wonder if it would help to pay attention to the new growth, the sprouts of hope, around us. We aren’t meant to die when the cold winds come. Just rest and seek shelter for a spell. That’s only natural. And expected. No one faults us for doing so. But how welcome the warmth is, the unexpected sunny day, the tinges of joy we notice in our hearts, the swelling of hope, the view that is brightening oh so subtly yet certainly. Sometimes we don’t have the blessing of an entire lush green lawn to look out over. Sometimes all we have is the tiniest shoot to remind us of good things to come. But after enduring such a prolonged and opaque winter, this is all I need to buoy my spirit and to remember that winter never lasts forever.
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