On Sunday we drive home from church and I notice the hyacinth bulbs are blooming. They are blushing locks of lavender and fuchsia under the pear tree—which is budding out with its own white fingertips.
That morning we celebrated the baptism of baby Luke and I stood with misty eyes to make my promise to him and his mamma and daddy who I love so much. And I think these colorful bulbs must be the earth’s way of promising too—speaking joy over the day.
So I am not surprised when we awaken this morning to a heavy blanket of white—those whispers of color sealed in woolen trappings. And for a minute I worry about the Pussy Willow tree that had just started to bloom and those tender buds on the plum. It’s not going to be a very pretty spring, I think to myself as I stand at the window. But then school is delayed two hours and my boys don’t even bat an eye when I put on my big black boots over my PJs and pull the old blue robe tight around me.
And the meadow shimmers in her new dress and Mr. Cardinal flashes red against a snow covered branch and I think about the Pastors’ hands on that baby’s head, how the water covered him and claimed him.
And I know this white crocheted over everything I see…this white is a promise.
He makes all things new. Oh, glory. He makes all things new.
How do you embrace the God-joy? Every Monday I’ll be sharing one of my Playdates with God. I would love to hear about yours. It can be anything: outside, quiet time. Maybe it’s solitary. Maybe it’s loud and crowded. Just find Him. Be with Him. Grab my button at the bottom of the page and join us:
The Playdates button: