For those who may not know, we don’t really have a spring season in Colorado. As a friend of mine said, what we have is “winter wrestling with summer.” Eventually summer wins, but not without a struggle.
In March I begin to see Facebook posts from friends on the East Coast or in the South showcasing their crocuses, tulips and daffodils bursting with color. Soon the photos are of azaleas, dogwoods and redbuds in full bloom. Should I look up from their photos to gaze out my window, however, I’m more likely to see snow falling—not apple blossom petals, but real snow!
I try to be a good sport, and I’ve certainly been here long enough to know what to expect. The survival rules include not switching your closet over to lighter weight clothes too soon, or holding back a couple of turtleneck sweaters and some heavy jeans if you do. And never taking your coat to the cleaners. You’re just asking for a blizzard if you do that! So we wash the flannel sheets but put them back on the bed. We keep the snow boots in the front closet. We tell ourselves “we need the moisture.” And we wait.
Long ago my husband decided it was best to send me off to a location with real spring rather than to watch my stiff upper lip quivering for two months, and for that I’m grateful. This year my friend Kathy and I took a long road trip to Texas—emphasis on long. Wearily stepping out of the car in Waco, I immediately noticed the rejuvenating smell of green.
The next day we visited Magnolia Market. There and all over town the magnolia trees were in full bloom and the gardens were spectacular. After passing brown fields one after the other in Colorado and New Mexico, we were breathing in spring! Our next stop was to visit our friend Jimmie in Tyler, the rose capital of Texas. She took us to a wonderful rose garden, and we enjoyed seeing everything blooming in her yard and sat by her pool. All together it was the perfect cure for our winter blues.
Of course there are good things about our non-spring, too. If kids on spring break aren’t heading off to Florida or Arizona with their parents they may go skiing. Spring skiing is something to be experienced at least once in life. It’s not uncommon to see girls skiing in bikini tops or shirtless young men in shorts. This time of year at high altitude the sun is warm and the snow is slushy but cold. As skiers near the bottom of the slope the aroma of brats and hamburgers on an outdoor grill wafts up to meet them. Ahh! Not bad at all.
And the spring snow is pretty. During one April snowstorm this year a bright yellow goldfinch paid us a visit just to say, “Don’t worry. Warmer weather is on the way!” Already I see signs that summer may soon have winter on the mat. Our grass is finally starting to green up and the little crabapple tree in our front yard is in its God-given glory. Maybe it is May at last.
The hymn “In the Garden” has always been a favorite of mine. Whenever I choose it to close out a lesson from The Hope of Glory in an assisted living setting, it blesses the ladies there, too. Faces brighten, voices are raised, and we even come up with a bit of harmony. It’s a beautiful, touching hymn, but I had no idea of its origin.
Twice a year the discussion comes up about Daylight Saving Time and whether it’s time to do away with it. However, as of now it’s still in effect so most of us spring forward as requested. Sunday, March 12, is the designated day this year.
Spring forward into a new hobby. Preferably one you’ve been thinking about for a long time but never made it a priority. Good advice with any new venture is to dip your toe in the water before diving in. Is your new hobby watercolor painting? Take a class at a local community center before investing in a lifetime supply of paints and canvases. You can always invest later once you know you love it.
Of all the places in the Bible that talk about love, the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians is known as the “love passage.” In it, Paul describes love as patient, kind, not envious or boastful, not proud, rude, self-seeking or easily angered. He says love keeps no record of wrongs, does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. Moreover love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres, and never fails (1 Corinthians 13:4-8). Paul was writing to believers in Corinth, but the Word is speaking to us about loving in this way today.
I was standing by the pickup counter at Panera Bread while the man behind the counter got the next order ready. “HOPE to go!” he shouted. A young woman named Hope stepped forward to claim her bagged food. As she walked past me I said, “Wow. We could all use some hope to go this time of year!” She smiled kindly at the weird older woman in the Christmas sweater and went merrily on her way. But an idea for a blog post was born.
What of us? As we journey toward Christmas we have temporal hope that families will travel safely, that promised gifts will be delivered on time or family conflicts will be resolved. But our hope to go is also eternal hope, an anchor for the soul (Hebrews 6:19).
Here we are in the in between. Thanksgiving is over and Christmas is still a few weeks away. So how are we to spend this tweason if you’ll indulge my coining of that word? How can we hold on to the best of the last holiday while eagerly anticipating the next?
News outlets have been speculating about the October surprise for weeks now. I suppose that traditionally politicians and parties save up their most damning information against their opponents for the weeks before an election in order to sway the vote in their favor. Releasing this too soon and people will forget. Release it too late and many will have already made up their minds or voted early. Thus, the October surprise.
I turned the corner to be overcome by sunlight illuminating the most beautiful row of red maples I’d ever seen. So spectacular was this October afternoon sight that I coerced my husband into going back with me a few days later so I could get a photo before the leaves fell. Still a wow.
Hmmph, I thought. What if I want to be offended? After all, there are so many things in the world right now that I find offensive! Don’t I deserve to be offended? To be hurt and angry even? Hmmph. Then I read the book. Chapter by chapter I felt a shift in my spirit. A shift from blame to forgiveness, from discouragement to hope, from anxiety to peace, from anger to love. I hope this October surprise outlives the month.
In her recent book Waymaker author Ann Voscamp calls the times she goes out to walk in nature her “glory walks,” meaning it’s when she can just bask in the natural beauty of God’s creation and absorb it into her soul. My early morning walks this summer have been just that, so I’m savoring these late summer mornings before the temperature drops and the wind howls.
Suddenly this was beginning to feel more like a pilgrimage than a glory walk, so I wasn’t surprised when on the far side of the lake I encountered a group of young Black men and women playing by the shore with an older dog and a passel of puppies. One young man with dreadlocks to his waist was holding two of the cutest puppies I’ve seen in a long time. I might have nodded and walked on, but then I’m reading Senator Tim Scott’s new book America, A Redemption Story. In it he says if we are ever going to heal the racial or political divides in this country, we can’t depend on the government to do it. We each have to do some small thing to make a difference each and every day.
A needlepoint sampler I inherited was stitched by a great aunt in 1933 and reads, “To a friend’s house the road is never long.” The road my husband and I took from Colorado Springs, CO, to Montrose, CO, to see my friend Betty is 230.9 miles long, the estimated time extended by construction delays in the Black Canyon. It felt long that day. So when we pulled into Betty’s driveway and saw her pretty home with the hanging flower basket and manicured yard, I breathed a sigh of relief. When we stepped inside to be greeted by Betty sitting in her favorite recliner, the road no longer seemed long at all.
When I told Betty that we wanted to stop in to see her and gave her the date she said, “OK, I’ll try to hang on.” We’re so glad she did! It was a joy to just sit and visit about her life, learning things I never gleaned from the warm relationship we’ve developed over email and Facebook these many years. I learned she was born and raised in Holland, MI, and that she and her husband Chet visited Germany, lived in Colorado, New Mexico and Oregon, and wintered in Mexico for years before his death from cancer in 1991. Her family now consists of their four grown children, 10 grandchildren and 21 great-grandchildren. She and her daughter Joanne share the home in Montrose.