“Even the wilderness and desert will be glad in those days.  The wasteland will rejoice and blossom with spring crocuses.” Isaiah 35:1 (NLT)

It has been a while since I last wrote. I have had some ideas for posts, but have not written, and as is usual, discouragement has begun to set in. 

January was a long, yet quick month for me. Our oldest had another surgery and Dale and I had the privilege to be with her family. Time flies by with a nine year old around. It was a wonderfully exhausting time spent with her. 

During our time there, Dale and I celebrated our 49th anniversary. We have spent three anniversaries in that area, our first, our 48th and our 49th. Obviously, it was a time of reflection for me. The city has changed drastically since we were first married, dirt roads are now paved busy highways. The sky scape is filled with homes, high rises, and buildings. 

Seeing the city’s growth reflected my thoughts on our marriage. When we lived in the Tidewater area, we had many rough and dirt roads in our life together. We also have seen growth together. Much of our life together has been filled with reconstruction, and paving of our ways. We have been torn down like the apartments we lived in 49 years ago. We have had to restart and renew and ask for forgiveness and give forgiveness. Our life is now like the gentrified areas of the town we started out in. We have been given a fresh start and have grown to welcome and be comfortable with each other. As I looked at Dale at our anniversary dinner, I saw glimpses of the young sailor I fell in love with, but, I also saw my life, my heart.

As February came and we arrived home, I knew that there was a feeling of something deep in me. Yes, I miss my daughter and her family. I miss the noise and activity of our granddaughter. But, there was something missing.

As I walked to get our mail, a spot of yellow caught my eye. Our crocuses are blooming. Out of the cold and dormant earth, these little flowers break through. A reminder that spring is right around the corner. A little hope in a drab and dreary winter landscape, pushing past the dead leaves surrounding them.

Writing is what gives me joy. When I don’t write discouragement happens. I know I am not the best writer in the world, but it is what feeds me in a way I don’t find elsewhere. It is where I hear my Savior’s voice and encouragement. It’s where I feel His presence. 

As I walked toward our mailbox, I prayed. So many thoughts rambled through my mind, so many prayers of gratitude for this past month echoed again as they have throughout January. God is good. He is faithful. Today, He gave me words to write and a tangible sign of hope and strength. There is nothing like seeing a crocus in the middle of winter.