Wild little prophets

I saw these guys on my walk in the woods yesterday.

Crocus flowers, or pasque flowers as they are sometimes called, fascinate me. As forerunners they are the first to demonstrate the change in season by the prophetic act of blooming before any of the other wild flowers in the Rockies.

I read this recently: Hope is hearing the music of the future; faith is being able to dance to it today.

The crocus reveals, as it folds back its furry purple robes, a heart of gold. It’s mere presence between patches of dust-weary snow in the mountain meadows sings to me songs of stepping into destiny by faith.

Come out of your caves! Don’t let your past define who you are today!

Open to the light! Let it dispel all the dark fear that keeps you from letting anyone see your heart! You are beautiful!

Wakey! Wakey! Even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed in as fine apparel as the Lord has already given you who love him. He has equipped you with every good gift you need for this season.

Are you listening? Can you feel it?




April buds

We frail humans are at one time capable of the greatest good and, at the same time, capable of the greatest evil. Change will only come about when each of us takes up the daily struggle ourselves to be more forgiving, compassionate, loving, and above all joyful in the knowledge that, by some miracle of grace, we can change as those around us can change too.

-Mairead Maguire