Spring should come quietly, gently, shouldn’t it? With a green mist of tiny leaves covering the desolate winter-assaulted trees, and delicate flowers appearing in previously empty plots. I like to imagine that it is so. However, in reality, Spring is a time of upheaval. New life pushes its way out of barely-thawed dirt, hard bark, and–if it comes too soon–inhospitable snow. It is true that the danger of snow storms are generally past, but they are simply replaced by thunder storms. These storms are a picture of Spring-time: the result of clashing warmth and cold, the offspring of fighting wind currents. It is in this restless time that life comes visibly back to earth. Bird song invades the stillness, tiny red oak leaves bud from the branches outside my office window, expanding to broad translucent green lobes.
I feel it, too. The restlessness seems to invade my very soul. I feel the new life and restlessness of dreams, desires coming to life. It is the restlessness of Spring, which does not bring forth beauty without a struggle. Often I am dismayed by the struggle. Although I feel the stir toward contemplation, writing, creative expression set within me, I find these desires struggling against the seeming constriction of what is daily life for me now: teaching, planning, taking care of a husband and home’s needs, meeting the expectations of different commitments and responsibilities. The daily responsibilities are truly blessings–and yet in meeting them, finding little time and energy left for other pursuits, I am tempted to view them as burdens. At the same time, I am glad for the stirrings–desires which have come to life within the last year, kept alive even with infrequent attention (somewhat like my houseplants…but I digress). I do however long for the time when I can see daily life and the desires not as separate forces at odds with each other, but that the bloom of one would come out of the soil of the other. Honestly, I’m not sure what that will look like. What I do know is that through this restless time, I must trust in the provision of the One who has created both the circumstances and the longings. He knows and does indeed provide these internal storms, that growth and beauty might result.
…For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus. (Paul)