A Slow Spring

Can you hold onto hope when spring is slow to come?

By Sarah Freymuth

We're officially into spring, but outside my window says otherwise.

A winter storm swept through Wisconsin again, leaving piles of snow across my city. Trees and bushes, which have begun to bud (a beautiful sign in this long stretch of cold) are once again covered with white. Recent warm temperatures have teased us, now a disappointment in the 20+ degree drop practically overnight.

My internal landscape relates to the rise and fall of hope and disappointment all in one dance. I've been stretched thin and barren through a winter of wrestling in head and heart. I've been longing for spring to appear, for hope to bloom within. Coming off a difficult two-year physical and mental roller coaster, I’m longing for the life and growth of spring, sunshine in my mind, body, and spirit.

I take my puppy for a wet walk around the neighborhood, and in the break of construction work that's been happening the last few weeks, I pay attention to what's in-between the silence: birdsong.

Durable birds have made their way back north, expecting spring as well. Are they surprised by the storm that has come? Will they remain in what they weren’t prepared for?

The weather does not deter them; quite the opposite, they continue to call to one another from the trees, settle in for spring and summer, to a place they belong.

I, too, have traveled a long distance to come home—to come home to myself. But the winter winds and dampness still strike, and I have yet to find the pocket of warmth to ease me into what is next. Fear hisses in my ear, distracts me from what is coming in its attempt to trip me up in the past and keep me frozen in fear.

But the Lord of all creation is creating something here, slowly, quietly. Like the brush blooms in spring, we can’t see the work done under the surface, the growth that’s been developing over months. It’s a process that cannot be rushed or changed. It simply must be.

“Forget the former things;
    do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
    Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
    and streams in the wasteland” (Isaiah 43:18-19, NIV).

God is doing something new, even in the in-between. If only I would still my wondering heart and notice what is slowly happening around me. Spring is still coming, even though it doesn't look like it. The snow will make way to a melting flow, the sun draws closer, extending its warmth, patches of green will pop again in the yard. And the Spirit of God who hovered over the waters and a formless Earth is moving to create new life in me. 

If I listen, the birds are still singing. Behold, they seem to say to me. A newness is coming; fresh life is already here. Even if it appears otherwise, the lack of grass and appearance of flowers are only shadows of the truth that has come. God is doing a new thing, making a way, at the right time. He is reviving and restoring my soul. Slowly, always slowly. But strategically.

The coral-colored buds on the tree in my front yard are holding steady, poised to petal, waiting on the right time. And the right time will come. It’s all in due time. There is goodness in order, in incubation. Deep roots drawing from the ground for what they need.

“There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens” (Ecclesiastes 3:1, NIV).

The birds sense this, too. There is a time coming when they will take their place on bird feeders and branches, make nests, make their home.

Oh heart, pay attention to them. Even in the harshest of elements, in surprise and unmet expectations, you, too, can choose to sing.

I round the drive and lead my puppy to the door, brush his belly full of snow, stomp my feet before crossing the threshold. The wood-framed doorway strikes a thought in me, and I know there is more to remember.

Jesus brought new life when He went to the Cross, to carry my sin and swap it for His good and eternal life. His Resurrection has made all things new, has settled the score with a perpetual winter once and for all. When His body broke open, so did the soil of our hearts, ready to receive a new kind of life. One that warms, restores, and brings His Kingdom to this Earth. What a gift. What sunlight to my shadowed heart!

Spring is coming to our souls as well. It's begun by faith. Believing where we cannot see, staking our hope on the One who is over the seasons that change.

Do I sense the Spirit in this season? Do I see my soul returning from a hard winter, waiting, preparing for arrival?

Oh Lord, let me sing my remembrance song. Let the thaw come in its time, in Your way. Come into the surprise of seasons, of my soul. Come make a home in me.

“For behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land” (Song of Solomon 2:11-12, NIV).

Sarah Freymuth is the communications manager for Fellowship of Christian Athletes, writes for numerous publications, and enjoys life with her husband and puppy in their Midwest harbor town. Connect with her at www.sarahfreymuth.com.