"For everything there is a season, and a time for everything
under heaven." ~ Ecclesiastes 3:1
Sarah’s eyes could only detect shadows
of light and dark. She knew day from
night and the proximity to a window on a sunny day. Without colors, she relied on the intensity
of other senses. She loved the seasonal
changes for their simple joys.
Nearly blind from birth, Sarah knew before her sighted
friends when the winter season was in transition. She knew every flower of her neighborhood by their
scents, either that which they released to the damp air or by crushing a petal
to release their aromatic sap. The
daffodils and crocuses were usually early bloomers. The myriad of lush hues from the grass and leaves
were lost to her; but their gentle fragrance never was.
She knew the call of each bird species and marked the
progress of the season with their song. There was more good humor in the air and the
children reappeared in greater numbers to the streets. Soccer games erupted in the spaces between the
clustered garages and in cul-de-sacs. Skateboarders
rode over the uneven pavement slabs, sounding for the entire world like an
approaching train.
She felt the breeze kiss her more warmly. Even the rainfall would be different, no
longer driving and harsh, but settling softly on her face, almost refreshing. The wind would lose its bite, becoming
ambient, congenial, and tousling the hair of pedestrians - but
no longer stealing their warmth. It’s
the promise of summer to come, of warm days without the weight of winter garb.
But on this bleak, spring morning, that all still seemed
months away.
Seasons fade in and out like soft lullabies, their
transitions unhurried but never faltering. Like mother earth herself, they only turn in
one direction, always onward, never back.
Sarah breathed in deeply, so wanting the beautiful flowers and sweet-smelling
blossoms that she could almost smell the promise of their perfume.
Thought she can’t smell them yet, Sarah knows they’re coming. It’s happened every year. She knows with certainty that those bulbs
lying dormant below the soil will come to life when God says it’s time.
Sometimes it’s the same way spiritually. We hit bleak times in our lives, and it feels
as if God’s a million miles away. We
chase the dreams He’s put on our hearts, and we wait and wait, but nothing
happens. But just like things happening
to those bulbs below the soil, God is busily at work on our behalf, even when
we can’t yet see those first sprouts of His endowment.
The flowers are coming. If God made you a promise, you can count on
the fact that you will one day see it bloom in your life as well.
For flowers that bloom about our feet, for
tender grass, so fresh and so sweet; for song of bird, and hum of bee, for all
things fair we hear or see, Father in heaven, we thank Thee! ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
