Metaphorical Ramblings

The landscape was black and charred.  What had happened?  Was this a planned burn?  A careless camper?  A strike of lightning? Yet rising from desolation were crisp green shoots and persistent purple blooms.

I'll never forget that first glimpse of Yosemite.  We entered the park through winding roads criss-crossing the smoky remains of a mighty forest.   We never learned how the fire started, but what remained with me was the beauty of spring and new life emerging from the ashes even while large trees still smoked. 

My soul craves such a spring like my lungs require air.

Yet this year winter fights to hold on.  The sun is bright and looks warm, but the wind continues to bite and snowflakes drift just moments after warmth.

There are green shoots pushing through the black night of winter, and they bring me hope.

I never knew I would so desperately wish for spring.  And I'm learning from spring, that healing and growth come spurts and stops.  New growth takes time and warmth.  One day may be warm and sunny, followed by another snowy morning.  Something new will emerge - patience is required.  Like the remains of the forest fire, the big ones still smolder. 

We're coming through this dark season of our life.  Looking back I feel mightily blessed.  So many possible tragedies were simply trials.  What has seemed like a burnt wasteland is enabling new growth to emerge.