No matter how long the winter, spring is sure to follow." - African Proverb
(click image to access source)
I have not yet reached my spring; it is still winter. The days are cold, dark, and wet, but amidst this bleakness, there are fleeting moments of sunshine and warmth. I see signs of life emerging as this dreadful season nears its end.
The days remain shorter, but slowly time extends. I hear the whispers of a new morning, a new day, as I wait in silence—sometimes in gut wrenching screams, no one hears... but me.
In this silence, I wait, clinging tightly to my faith. For trust is all I know, even though all seems lost. Yet within the rubble of destruction, remnants of hope lie buried—it is my shelter. It is what strengthens me. My only comfort.
Winter will have its end, and where it meets my spring, I will be reborn anew. I will rise again, higher and more beautiful than ever before. My roots deepened beneath the surface, connecting with sources too distant to reach if not for... the bitterest of seasons.
Who I was, what I was—none of it compares to who I will become in my spring.
Will you see it? Will your eyes bear witness to the Creator's masterpiece in motion? Nothing is wasted; every experience will serve His ultimate purpose.
In every season—whether winter or spring—His glory is revealed, found, seen, and experienced. In the finishing work, all is... as it was... meant to be.
In silence, I will wait. I am waiting for my spring.
By Marcy Baez Lopez 9 April 2024
Special Note: 2nd year anniversay of the day I saw the wreckage of late son, Josh's mangled car