It’s no secret that winter around here was brutal. The kids were out of school 100 days it seemed.
The sun played a constant game of hide-and-seek but was never found. The short, gray days were well…short and gray.
And right about the time when everyone in Kansas City put their homes on the market and moved south, spring showed up.
The days got a bit longer. The grass, greener. The sky, bluer. The trees, leafier
If you came to our house to hang out on our back porch with us, you’d notice three or four massive oak trees that have fallen down in the past several months.
The winter was tough on them. Then a few heavy rains did them in.
We’ll have fire pit wood for months, but it’s sad to see something that was once so strong now be so helpless.
Gravity and death won the battle. At least initially.
The promise of spring though is that growth overshadows the decay. Life quite literally springs up from the dead spots.
Nature shows us that it must be that way. Life gives way to death and ultimately produces life again.
I don’t think it’s accidental that Easter takes place in the spring. On the heels of the long, dark days. In the shadow of the broken stories and empty longings.
Just when we’re all about to throw in the towel and move south, Hope showed up. And where there was once decay, life was born. Where there was once death, He rolled the rock away and showed us the road to freedom.
If you look out our kitchen window, there’s an open spot where a big oak tree fell down the hill. Sad, sure. But not the end of the story.
For Easter, we planted a red bud tree in that barren spot. Brooke’s favorite. It pales in comparison to the size of that old oak.
But death brought life.
And spring has sprung. Thank God.
