I write these words on a day in late April, the half-gray sky with muted sunshine. The grass is a mild shade of green and the snow has melted, though mini icebergs remain where plows stacked the snow into piles.
April is a season of change; a transition from one extreme to the other. Just as in our lives, we may find something new emerging, something changing, something transitioning, something growing, and something dying. There is always something to remember and something to forget, something to cry about and something to laugh about, something that is buried and something that is resurrected. Spring is hopeful and full of reminders that God is still in charge watching over us; He is the constant of grace and source of hope blanketing this world.
I imagine a spring in the south when my mind conjures up images of spring. In the Upper Midwest, April is still finding its spring legs, while in the South, April is already learning how to walk. In the Midwest, the sky is still visible through mostly bare tree branches, but further south, lacy flowering trees outlined with green fringe obscure the sky. Most days are sunny in the deep south, but the sunshine is not guaranteed in the much further north. (I wouldn’t be a very good marketing agent for relocation to the Midwest, would I?!)
On this blog, in fact, I documented that on April 4, 2011, we had a hailstorm. But on April 9, 2012, the following year, on Easter Sunday, tulips were blooming a month earlier than usual. Just last year, in 2017, daffodils were already in bloom by now; today, the green stems are perhaps half-grown.
April is a state of unease for me the past couple of years. Perhaps I identify with the spring and winter tussling with each other. Perhaps it is connected with the academic school year, as my kids face the end of a school year and the summer months ahead. Perhaps I am aware of seasons passing and moving in my own life, as my birthday is approaching in May and I know I am getting older. Perhaps there is more (indeed, there is more). 🙂
I am reminded of this quote:
“God, our hearts are restless ’til they find their rest in you.” –Augustine
In any season, our hearts will be restless until they find their true rest in the Creator.
Let my teaching fall like rain
and my words descend like dew,
like showers on new grass,
like abundant rain on tender plants. – Deuteronomy 32:2
As promised, here are a few poems about spring.
Spring
by Gerard Manley Hopkins
By Henry Van Dyke
When down the stair at morning
The sunbeams round her float,
Sweet rivulets of laughter
Are bubbling in her throat;
The gladness of her greeting
Is gold without alloy;
And in the morning sunlight
I think her name is Joy.
When in the evening twilight
The quiet book-room lies,
We read the sad old ballads,
While from her hidden eyes
The tears are falling, falling,
That give her heart relief;
And in the evening twilight,
I think her name is Grief.
My little April lady,
Of sunshine and of showers,
She weaves the old spring magic,
And breaks my heart in flowers!
But when her moods are ended,
She nestles like a dove;
Then, by the pain and rapture,
I know her name is Love.
