Everything has Changed
Everything has Changed (a song with a rather passive title) by Taylor Swift (and some English guy named Ed) is a good metaphor for spring. When before everything was coiled in sleep, colored in grays and browns, and dead, now everything is new again. (And, one could argue, spring is also a good metaphor for a woman, as both can be unpredictable.) We all go through seasons. What season am I living through now? Could it be a season of rebirth? Renewal? Life springing out of the once-dead ground?
This song even has an organic sound, all guitars and voices and brushes, much like what goes on during springtime. The melding of male and female voices could also point toward spring. And, well, love is an incredibly organic yet spiritual thing that often defies explanation. It grows under sometimes the harshest of conditions, poking out of dry earth or miry snow, undaunted. Love and spring are both miracles. All I know is my heart is as adamant and undeterred as spring. Am I taking this too far? Perhaps. Moving forward. Come along, if you’d like.
If you've followed this blog for any amount of time, you know I'm due for something good to happen. Love, as depicted in the song, is a good metaphor for spring. And vice versa, I suppose. I can't make any statements about my love life beyond what I've already said. We won't confuse this short and simple love letter to spring with anything else. God knows my heart. Everyone else has probably figured it out too.
I noticed the trees getting almost imperceptibly fuller in the sky in mid-February. The ground knows spring is near, but the air is still unaware. The trees are starting to come alive, but you'll miss it if you rush by them. Their buds are swelling, and not everyone notices. By mid-March, you can tell they're getting ready to burst forth in leafy splendor. The air has to warm a bit more or the leaves will be damaged by frost. The trees renew themselves each year by the ancient wisdom put in them by their Creator. Some of these trees were here long before my grandparents. They may stand long after I'm gone. They know things I'll never know. But I see them full of anticipation, and I feel the same.
It’s the same way when a man falls in love with a woman. He waits achingly for the fullness of spring and summer, ever hopeful and wide-eyed. Spring is fullness and flowers and color out of grays and browns. It is life penetrating into a world from whence it once retreated. Out of seemingly nothing comes something. It's the magic of the seed, the bulb, the rhizome, the root, the stalk, and the heart. It's built into every living creature: it's spring!
Our lives are constructed upon the notion of seasons. We're born in one and die in another, just like everything around us. We plan our lives based on the calendar, which is dictated by machinations much larger than us. It's built into our very DNA.
Time is always moving forward. Sometimes our lives don't feel like that. We feel stuck. But, in reality, we're always moving. We have no choice. We are here one moment and gone another. In this moment of determination, I vow to live my remaining days to the fullest. To love, live, and laugh, and all those cliches. I don't care because I can't go back. I can't make anything of what's behind me, but I can approach tomorrow with hope. And that's what spring is. In one word, it is hope. You could say the same about love. Even though we know nothing lasts forever, we still hope and still love. That says everything we need to know. In spite of the inevitable, we hope against hope. On the surface, it appears death will someday win. But I am persuaded otherwise. Nothing is stronger than love. Nothing is greater than hope. It may retreat for a while and be covered in decay, but it will always spring forth again when the time is right. And it may be sooner than you know. Keep your eyes on the trees. They know.
So, the next time you're taking a walk and the fragrance of spring overtakes you and the flowers catch your eye and your skin relaxes in the warm breeze, you may remember this love letter of a post about spring, at least in part. The aching is over. The waiting is fulfilled. The time is now. Everything has changed.
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One thing that is different about this spring (besides the fact that it is much earlier than I'm used to) is the sky is full of migratory birds. I've been doing a lot of driving for my job the last few months (I think I've seen the end of that for the most part, as I am now officially certified for my position) so the change is welcome. Nebraska has such big skies. It's nice to see the pastel clouds in the morning alive with the sights and sounds of literally thousands of birds. When I lived in the Black Hills, we'd see some birds come back, of course, but they would filter in unnoticed. We didn't see giant collections of them filling the skies. A stray group of geese or cranes here and there, but that was about it. Spring is always exciting, especially in a new (old) place.
I was going to write another treatise on old ads but didn’t want to further annoy any readers I may have. I mean, after all, Joshua, someone may actually be reading the detritus you write.
Sorry I haven’t written much lately. And I was sick all week. I don’t know why I’ve been sick so much lately and wondered that in a prayer. God reminded me of a prayer I prayed a long time ago and then I realized He answered that prayer by my sickness. So, even a sickness wasn’t wasted. God can use everything, even our mistakes. Amen. A closing thought: sometimes God doesn't rescue us from a situation but, rather, gives us strength to go through it, which reveals a different and perhaps more humbling aspect of God's providence. I seem to know a lot about humility lately. As always ...
Thank you for reading. And God bless.
My Tumblr. In case you need more.
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