I’ve been looking forward to this day, March 20, for a long time.
Welcome first day of spring!
I believe you to be the most under-celebrated day because you symbolize so much that we all live for – hope, new beginnings, warmth, and refreshment.
Yet I think I like that it hasn’t become commercialized and over-done because as important as spring is to everyone’s morale, it is its natural beauty that makes it great. Rainy days and cool mornings make its promise sometimes subtle, but then there is that day when you walk outside and you see the way that the blooms have exploded and God has proclaimed that all that seemed dead is truly still alive.
I didn’t realize quite how much I had been talking about the coming of spring until I noticed the way Dash took time to find every bud in sight and exclaim, “Look Mom! Isn’t it beautiful? It means that spring is coming! Can we keep this forever?!?”
There have been days I needed that encouragement from his innocently profound four-year-old heart than he realized, and each time I saw his enthusiastic eyes find mine with a new bud in hand, I kissed his sweet head and said, “Yes buddy! Spring is coming! And of course we can hold onto this.”
Yesterday I had to chuckle because I heard him start his new ritual of bringing me a sign of spring, but then I looked up to see what he was holding.
In his hand was a withered hydrangea from a little brush pile. I’d just deposited it there the other day after pruning my bushes, but he didn’t see it as dead and worthless as I did. He still saw that it resembled a flower and pronounced it “beautiful.” We finished our ritual and I set down the flower to help Daisy with her outdoor explorations.
This morning, he found it again while I was in the house and he ceased all playing to hunt me down in the house and say, “Mom! You forgot this! It needs to be put in a vase, please.”
And again that boy taught me important life lessons.
There are some seasons I’d rather discard all memories of. The remnants often look worn out and even ugly, but that doesn’t mean they no longer have value.
Even the parts of past seasons that are no longer living and thriving can still remind us of the hope that is to come in a new season. They give us a reason to keep going because the new flowers will need watering and new adventures need lived.
So that sweet, withered hydrangea will have a place in my windowsill for a while. It will be my spring bouquet – my beauty from ashes story – to celebrate this day in a new season, and I couldn’t have found a more perfect one anywhere.