Signs of Spring

Mid April and we've been peering for signs of spring for much longer than I imagined we would be.  They are arriving slowly.  We rush to the window for the orange belly in our yard, as Nolan reminds us Robin is also who he dressed as two Halloween's ago.  In a few brave places flowers have risked peeking out in search of the sun, who as of late, has still been in hiding.

"Does anyone see any signs of spring," I call out as we drive down the road.   "There's no snow," C says.  Seeing as it is April, that is a start.  A slow start, but a start nonetheless.

I check my heart too, and I find more often than I care to admit a chill I hoped would have softened by now, this late into spring.  Signs of change yet, Lord?  Birth new things in me, I whisper.

My gratitude tree, which begun with high hopes, has been ignored entirely, still displaying March's Easter eggs and gratitude spoken another day, a moment other than today.  I chalk it up as part of my "INFP-ness," particularly the "P" which, translated, means I am much better at thinking of new ideas than implementing them.  But truth be told, "P" or not, I need this.  I need the daily habit of gratitude.

I sometimes expect flowers to bloom, fruit to appear, with ease.  I easily forget flowers bear testimony to planting done in an earlier season.

"Gratitude for the seemingly insignificant - a seed - this plants the giant miracle."  Ann Voskamp writes as she practices the planting.

Out of nowhere we had a delightful rush of warmth and my boys are dipping toes in Grandma's yet clean pool, yanking off wet pants and opting to go not only barefoot but pants-less.

No matter how late in the season, the warm days always sweep in with grace and wash away bitterness of a long winter with their wonder.

I speak my seeds of gratitude out loud now as I type, letting a few of the words fall through my stubbornly clenched jaw.  Gripe is always my default, but I know if I don't hold out my seeds I will miss the wonder of them blossoming when grace sweeps through.

I don't want to miss the wonder.  Oh Lord, let me not be too stubborn to miss the wonder.