Chirp, chirp. The long-missed sound of songbirds singing from still-barren trees.
Just two of many sounds heralding the change of season. Last weekend we had another tangible reminder as our clocks got sprung forward an hour and some of us got to church late or missed it altogether.
March is a transition month...a mix of winter’s last gasp amidst 65 degree glimpses of the spring that lies just beyond our grasp. If we could only will it to be here RIGHT NOW instead of being teased like this.
Like watching a chick hatch out of an egg or a Monarch butterfly emerge from the chrysalis, this time of transition can be painfully slow....and yet full of wonder and promise of the new life to come.
I’ve aways said March is the worst month...no longer fully winter with the purity of fresh fallen snow, and not yet being able to enjoy the budding trees and the early arriving crocus. It’s a time of mud being tracked into the house and mostly yucky weather.
It’s a time of waiting for the promise of what we know lies ahead.
Come to think of it, that’s not such a bad thing.
Waiting for what we know will be coming our way in the cycle of the seasons is similar to this season of Lent -- a time to await the promise of the empty tomb and the miracle of resurrection. It is a time to reflect on our lives and our sin. And to remind ourselves why Jesus is so very special. Willing to become a sacrifice on our behalf that assures us of salvation.
Like the freshness of spring that means more after the darkness of winter and the slop of March, so the joy of the resurrection and our love for Jesus can have greater meaning if we take these weeks spending some time in some personal introspection.