Think spring

My friend (and pastor) Peggy loves being outdoors, but only when it’s warm. I watch her all winter long, wrapped in warm coats and hats and gloves, frozen, longing for the temperature to rise and for things to bud and turn green. When it finally happens, when spring arrives, Peggy will spend hours outside, digging, pruning, planting, watering, nurturing. Making her yard beautiful even as she finds renewal in her soul.

And even though I’m not a much of an outdoor person, and even though I don’t like to work in my yard, I do understand. It’s discouraging when we look out the window, day after day, at gray, dripping, soggy skies, sodden ground, dirty snow. Sometimes during the winter we lose our sense of joy, letting outward circumstances cloud our perceptions. Our bodies and our minds respond to the drabness of the weather, and we close in on ourselves, shutting out the world.

But at some point during the winter, things start to change. They’re subtle clues we may not be consciously aware of — but suddenly it feels like spring is on its way. Out of nowhere, even if it’s still cold and gray, spring is on our minds. Our emotions become buoyant.

I think that the hope God promises feels a lot like spring. Something rises up inside and makes us feel as though life is full of possibilities. Our souls leap for joy when we see a flower bud appear seemingly out of nowhere. The very air feels different, refreshing instead of stale. Having been shut in for so long, wrapped in layers of warmth, our bodies pull us outside, into the air, exulting in the warmth and the potential and the promise of spring. The earth seems to be shouting that there are great things to come. We begin waiting with expectation, no longer dragging our feet or feeling like it will be months before there is any relief. We have hope. Promise. Possibility. Expectation. And with our renewed hope comes renewed faith, because faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. We don’t have to see it to know it’s on its way.

Going back

I went to my daughter’s swim meet this weekend. It was held at my old high school, in the pool in which we swam in P.E. The whole building has changed around it – new wings added, new hallways and entrances and classrooms, but the pool is just the same. Sitting there looking around this place I didn’t even know I remembered, memories flooded in. The fear of having to jump off the diving board, feet first, going all the way to the bottom of the pool before I was allowed to resurface. The humiliation of wearing suits color-coded by size, stretched out in front by girls more “developed” than I, tied closed in back with a shoestring. P.E. teachers giving first aid demonstrations over there. My asthma making it hard to catch my breath; always swimming in the lane by the wall so I could stop if I had to.

With distance, sometimes we forget. But when we go back to a place from our past, emotions and feelings and events and details float up from the depths of our memory, fresh and strong and vivid. I was surprised at what I remembered after so long (gasp! It’s been 25 years!). Maybe we need to go back spiritually sometimes, too. Back to the place where we first found God (or where He found us). Back to the spot where we were when it happened. Back to the way we used to pray or worship. We need to remember how He got our attention. Why we fell in love with Him. What He said to us, and what we were doing when he said it. We need to let His love wash over us in waves. We need to flood our senses with the feeling of His presence. We need to dive right in, into the deep, deep waters of faith, without any fear. Without hesitation. Just jump right in.