“the dead shall rise again
whoever says
dust must be dust
don’t see the trees
smell rain
remember africa
everything that goes
can come
stand up
even the dead shall rise”
~Lucille Clifton, The Raising of Lazarus

I woke this morning to snow falling outside the window. The trees once again are wearing a glistening coat of white looking like a scene held captive by the White Witch from C.S. Lewis’ book, The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. I was reminded of the first Easter I lived in Minnesota, seeing the little girls in their springy dresses and hats, their little white shoes shuffling through the equally white, slushy snow. I want to believe that Easter fell much earlier in the year than April 24th but I could be wrong.

Even though the snow might douse our spirits today, I am making the commitment to keep my mind on what is being reborn. Our garden is a visual reminder. Tulips,irises, and other early bloomers are undaunted as they make their green way in the world once again after being held in darkness and cold for so many months. The lovely little warbler that snuggled in the branches of a tree outside our living room window this morning is another. He had the same dazed look we did as we watched the flakes falling. I saw an earthworm wriggling on the pavement trying to make his way to the now thawed ground, ready to do the work he is created to do.

There are also people I know who are experiencing a kind of rebirth after what seemed like a slow walk through a dark valley. Those who have known the full throttled pain and uncertainty of illness are now on the other side of despair, filled with a hope they thought might be lost forever. Still others have moved through painful job and relationship conflicts and are arriving at new places of understanding and commitment. What seemed like never ending dust has become something that is breathing new life. This is the wheel of life at its full spin.

Some spring seasons simply take longer to grow into their fullness. This spring is one of them. Just like some of us who need more patient nurture and support, this spring is inching into existence at its own labored tempo. And yet by day’s end the snow will likely be melted and gone into the on-going process of watering the sore earth. As humans short on patience, our work is to watch and wait and notice the tiny glimpses of new life wherever we see them.

And in our noticing take a moment to be grateful. Very, very grateful. Snow falls. snow melts. But a grateful heart is something to hold onto for dear life.