When spring is just around the corner, winter can seem like an endless trudge up a long slow hill. We continue to don our parkas and boots even as the days grow longer and the mornings lighter, and wonder if we'll ever be warm again, if the school year will ever come to an end, if the economy will ever recover...Some things are seasonal, of course, but other kinds of darkness, those of our own making, the cost of our own greed or self-absorption -- it's harder to trust that those, too, might be seasonal; that those, too, might eventually find redemption; might eventually end in resurrection, new life, rebirth, hope. Of course there WAS an Easter -- but can there be an Easter for US?
I love the way these branches, laden with snow, reach out for the children: it feels tender to me, and hopeful, like the light beginning to warm the road behind them. But it is Lent, after all, and there are days when I am the child in red, barely able to lift one foot to put it in front of the other.
1 comment:
That's something to ponder--"the darkness of our own making."
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