It’s snowing. Again.
This time of year we have glimpses of spring, a bit of green grass, a momentary warm breeze, a tiny crocus leaning into the foundation on the south side of the house. Then hope is deferred when the valley is socked in by low grey clouds and the signs of change disappear under more snow.
Sometimes I need to look for hope. So yesterday I took my camera down to the local plant nursery to see if anything was stirring there yet .
In and around the first greenhouse there were signs of change with pots being sorted, dusted and cleared of spider webs in preparation for filling.
The next green house was still bare and the third contained a tumbled mix of unsold plastic-wrapped patio furniture left from last season.
But in the small greenhouse at the back of the lot, someone was lining up pails of perennials on worn seasoned tables. These are the hardy ones, the ones that have known seasons of fruitfulness and seasons of rest, and they are showing new growth. Survivors. Forerunners.
But on the way out, in the warm environment of the shop, near the window, heaven poked its finger into my cold snowy world, and a perfect pure white flower from another place, one which cannot grow here, grew anyway.
We, on the other hand,
continue to live through the Spirit’s power
and wait confidently in the hope
that things will be put right through faith.
(Galatians 5:5 The Voice version)
Pray this way:
Your will be done
as it is in heaven.
Prepare your pots. Heaven is on its way.