March 14, 2012
You are my refuge and shield;
my hope is in your word. Psalm 119:114
As the morning brightens, the tree outside my window revels itself—branches first, then buds strewn almost haphazardly along slender twiggy fingers, and finally red filaments of beginning blossoms gain definition. More plenteous than yesterday, the buds and blossoms dance outside my window optimistically responding to the miracle of springtime sun.
This tree is not the same as yesterday and will be different still tomorrow. I note the empty spaces, left by branches lost to fall and winter storms and see too the gaps traversed by brave new shoots. Soon, green leaves will emerge from the refuge of the shielded buds to kiss morning breezes and slap the paws of playful squirrels.
Yet it is the same tree that has kept me company in my morning meditation for years.
I too have lost and gained. And I too will unfurl hopes well shielded through the winter. I will not emerge from the Lenten desert unchanged. But I will emerge: with light and life and love.
copyright © Anne E. Kitch 2012
