It’s sunset in Clive, Iowa. My home office faces west, and I watch the brilliant red, orange, and yellow colors fade into darkness. I sing to myself:
In the bulb there is a flower; in the seed, an apple tree;
In cocoons a hidden promise; butterflies will soon be free.
In the cold and snow of winter, there’s a spring that waits to be,
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.
“Hymn of Promise,” United Methodist Hymnal, #707
It is the season of winter, and I am deeply grateful that out of the isolation of life confined mostly to home, blessings still abound. Unrevealed until its season, Lent beckons us to remember that we are dust and to dust we shall return.
In the midst of the fear of contracting COVID-19; depression because we can’t go anywhere; worry about elderly parents; anxiety about our children; grief because we cannot cuddle grandchildren on our lap; and sorrow that so many are suffering financially, emotionally, and relationally – there’s a spring that waits to be. God with us even – especially – in the dark places.