We must have had some fog the previous night because we woke to a frosty world on Saturday morning. The rays of sunlight refracting from every tiny ice crystal transformed even the homeliest, dried-up old weed into a sparkling wonder, as if a large, unseen hand had sprinkled diamond dust everywhere.
When I was doing chores, my eyes were drawn to last summer’s sunflower skeletons. Although my flower beds look rather messy in the winter, I leave most of the freeze-dried flowers standing until spring. My semi-scientific reason: I read once that decaying roots, with their companion fungi, are a boon to soil health. I also leave them there as proof that winters—no matter how long, dark, and frigid—always pass, and summers always come.
There’s a waitress in town that reminds me of this picture. Customers are understandably underwhelmed by her cold countenance and prickly personality. But I can’t help but wonder what kind of long, dark, frigid winter her soul has endured. How many of her hopes have died? What storms have swept through her life, drying her dreams and icing up her heart? Jesus, give her spring and summer, I pray.
“Turn and answer me, O Lord my God! Restore the sparkle to my eyes, or I will die.” –PSALM 13:3 (NLT)