Five days and two hundred miles north at this time of year can sure make a difference in things. Particularly in the things of spring. After spending those few days in Doniphan County, Randa and I returned to the southern border of central Kansas to quite the change.
The green blades of jonquils and daffodils were just starting to push through the dirt in Wathena. They’re on a rampage here in Ark City! The bright yellow bursts of forsythia accent yards and white explodes from the branches of crab apple, Bradford pear and wild plum. The first red hints of coming blooms nest among the early leaves on the apple trees. Even in these chilling winds, all that color sends a contradicting hope of warmth and spring. Three days of rain and showers has soaked into the ground. Even in the slight sounds of drizzle on the windshield, there is something here of hope and good to come.
We need this season of change and promise after the long months of drought and cold, the bitter days of aching winds and wildfire danger rated in the “Catastrophic” category. We need the hope of plowing and planting, the reminding that even in the lean years the earth will yet have its seasons. We need the passing of winter and the splintering of green shoots from buried roots and the opening of seed to the needs of growing.
We need this healing from winter’s aching rest, to see fallow fields tilled in hope and planted in faith. We need the joy of promise, that what was planted in the earth will rise forth in life and living. We need the closeness of blooms and blades, of stalk and stem brought to life, of the tender leaves showing on the tips of bare limbs.
We need the remembering that we were born to planting, made for growing and filled with the promise of God’s own good yield, sown in the fields of heart and soul. Good seed planted in good soil, nourished by the Son and watered by the Spirit.