They surprised me as I walked –
Caught off guard.
Here in this barren wintry clay,
Empty yesterday,
But now an impetuous cluster of soft buds
Burst forth.
I could so easily have missed them,
But something – Someone?
Guided my eyes to look.
They are small still, yet sturdy.
Their determined tips have broken through the hard ground,
Soon to bear bright flowers.
They have long laid beneath the surface,
Forgotten to the world,
Wintering,
Gathering all they would need
For the coming days
Stretching, growing, storing up,
In the silent womb of the earth.
Invisible to any eyes,
Except the One who made them,
Until the right moment came.
And now, here they are –
A reminder of hope,
That sunshine and joy return,
That God’s paintbrush will soon color His landscape,
In bold, beautiful strokes,
After this season of stillness.
Here in this cluster of tiny buds,
He reminds me that my own hope
Holds much more promise
Than even the flowers of the field.
Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. ~ Romans 5:3-5
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