It is cold again today. Despite this the morning birds are singing coaxing Spring. It’s as if those birds feel Spring’s tender moments quietly approaching. I am not as perceptive, I see the icicles hanging from the gutters, the hockey rink the top of my pool has become, the grayness of the morning sky. I do not feel the approach of the inevitable, the eternal transition of Winter’s breathe into the sigh of Spring.
I love Spring; she is my savior, my hope, my entrance into this world. She reminds me that no matter how gray and lifeless things appear there will be a new beginning, a return to growth and light and warmth. I am so grateful for her, she never waivers, she always returns bringing with her the joy of rebirth.
In the land of grief sometimes we are lost wandering a landscape of desolate pain. The world continues though, beckoning us forward, to move through the pain, to find our way through the landscape of our Winter. Spring will come again in our hearts, but Winter will always be, it must, for without it we would never know the depth of our love for the rebirthing of our hearts.