April

“April, come she will.”
-Simon & Garfunkel

There are few things more lovely than the unexpected spring. Although I’ve now seen it unfold 37 times, I still marvel when branches burst with buds, buds erupt into blossoms, and blossoms blaze with fragrant beauty.

Spring is somehow sweeter this year. In a defiant juxtaposition to the world’s suffering, this season reminds us that new life abounds. The earth spins on without our meetings and reports, without our research and sales and games and schoolwork. Trees pay no heed to a hurried schedule, and they likewise go on with their work while the rest of the world steadily slows.

I can imagine that those in pain from loss, whether it is loss of work or companionship or even life, might feel mocked by the slow revelation of spring. How can nature be so unfeeling as to move on when our world is standing still? What right does nature have to wake up when so many will not see another spring?

My hope is that as the forests flourish, we will feel the mercy of creation – that it is moving on not to spite us, but to sustain us.

May we find beauty out our windows and in our hearts. May we breathe in with gratitude and out with grace. May we find consolation in new beginnings, however uncertain they may be. And may we seek wisdom from the tides of trees – that though they stand dormant, they are silently preparing to emerge from their winter with strength and beauty.