Early Spring

As I sit on the brown, lifeless grass, its crispy blades crunch and break beneath my weight. High atop this hill, I can see for miles in every direction, the surrounding gently rolling hills the same dun color as the grass where I sit.

Dotted along the tan hillsides, dark green cedars raise their pointed heads skyward. The peaked ends of two white farmhouses reveal man’s presence in this pristine world.

The breeze blows through the three-foot-high dried Bluestem grasses, bending and rustling them along its way. The cloudless sky stretches bright blue in every direction, a treat for eyes more accustomed to the gray, overcast skies of winter.

This peaceful setting soothes my harried soul. My heart slows from the frantic pace of the past week, its rhythm now more in tune with the occasional bird call and the soft rustling of the grass.

It’s appropriate, somehow. Just four days ago we buried my father-in-law. Yes, he was old and had lived a long, good life. But it’s still hard to say goodbye. And the caring, for years, the waiting for death to release his body has been difficult.

All the busy week of funeral plans and a house full of company have left my body tired, broken. Physically and emotionally drained.

The rustling grasses draw my focus back to where I sit. Right in front of me, so close I can reach out and touch its branches, sits a leafless plum bush.

At first glance it seems lifeless. Looking closer, however, I notice red in the branches, and small buds growing all along its notches. New life and growth will soon unfurl on this bush.

I examine my own life’s winter. Frequently leafless and bare this past winter, I spent much joy-sapping energy watching my father-in-law’s health slowly decline until finally, after 91 years on this earth, he breathed his last.

With a flurry of activity my family and I planned the funeral, prepared for guests, and buried Dad, high on a wind-swept hill much like this one.

But I know the life cycle continues. The plum bush will sprout new leaves and bear fruit, my body and soul will find rest and rejuvenation, and Dad, freed from his feeble earthly body, will live a glorious new life in heaven.

The peaceful scene in front of me is appropriate for this difficult time in life. Finally, after a long winter of life, my father-in-law has passed to the spring of his new life.

Spring is just beginning to display her green finery and her bright splashes of flowering beauty. But Spring has sprung early this year for the beloved father recently buried.

I look to the distant horizon, beyond the dried grass-covered hills, where the cars scurry, speeding off to some unknown destination and I’m grateful I know my father-in-law’s final destination.

The cars hurry. I sit, enjoying the quiet, enjoying the solitude. I am at peace.

Comforting God, my prayer is for those who are broken. Loss–of a loved one, a job, a relationship, a reputation–has them grieving, their souls filled with wintry darkness. I pray you will wrap Your arms of comfort around them. Let the buds of spring grow in their souls until they blossom once again with hope and joy in You.

Published by nancyhamiltonsturm

After raising a family and then teaching for over 20 years, I retired from full-time work. Now I spend time with family, tap dance, take long walks in nature, read, and write. I have published two stories in Chicken Soup for the Soul books and over a dozen devotions. My current goal is to publish a book of meditations over the gospels and to share my devotional writing on my blog. I hope you enjoy and are inspired.

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