Today’s late February rain drizzled and pushed a skim of dark coloring from stems of the geranium plant given to me last Mother’s Day. After blooming gloriously throughout last summer’s season, it drooped its flower heads in late Autumn and finally bowed to the cold.
Loathe to throw it out, early last December I carefully folded it in on itself, left it in its original container nestled in a blue ceramic pot, and hoped the seeds it bore would germinate in the Spring.
Now, the sun highlighted several of its withered stems with a pale brushstroke. An ongoing experiment of sorts, it looks like an ugly mess. At worst, it’s a decaying plant that will be thrown out someday. Yet, could it be a picture of jumbled hope lying beneath a tangle of things? Where new life could emerge from beauty that once lived and bloomed and gracefully died?
What is hidden there? Are tiny seeds waiting to sink minute roots into the soil? Will they sprout and grow? Will they find framework in the tangled stems above them? Will the tangle block the light or be removed at just the right time? Will the sun’s warmth reach into the darkest places with an invitation to grow?
It’s a beautiful mess, much like the earthly daze of busyness, confusion, grief…and the long periods of waiting, enduring, reaching for light. Like prayers yet to be fulfilled, what hopes will finally be set free?
Movement higher up caught my eye. A small squirrel bursting with energy, skipped and paused as he went back and forth across the narrow fence top. Tail swishing, bright eyes scanning, he provided comic relief from the tangled mess below. He reminds me to look up, see the rusty cross hanging on the fence, watch birds winging a ballet, and drink in the colors of an early Spring. The willow tree beyond the fence waved a cheery, yellow hello. And all around are joyous signs beyond the tangled mess.
During this season of Lent, God’s promises declare the Hope we’ve been given. Whether we’re in the tangles, in the dying of letting go, or navigating tentative places, new life, indeed, is rising, again.
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Thank You, LORD, for the marvelous Hope You’ve given. No matter our season, You remind us through innumerable ways that we are not forgotten, that Hope indeed is here. As we move through this Lenten season, come close to each of us, lift us up from our messy places, and raise us to new life in You. You are our Hope, You are Life. We praise You, Jesus, and in Your name we pray. Amen.
1 Peter 1:6 NLT “So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you must endure many trials for a little while.”
Titus 3:5 NLT “He saved us, not because of the righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He washed away our sins, giving us a new birth and new life through the Holy Spirit.”
Dew Upon The Arbor 