Spring out of winter . . .

"Not knowing when the dawn will come,

I open every door." 

~Emily Dickinson 

It is a beautiful day.
Really. A truly gorgeous day!
I am sitting on Grandpa's back porch, after having a rich Sunday dinner (but no meatballs today after having watched Food, Inc. last night. Ugh. More on that later), watching my kids play in his backyard.
There's just a little edge of chill in the air, the kind that reminds you that you will need a jacket when the sun slides away.
But right now, it is warm and sunny and we are enjoying it!
A robin, heavy with eggs, sits in the yard, too lazy to fly away from the boys running near. Somewhere close there is a nest, fat and feathered. But it is a nice day for her, too. She is in no hurry to be home.

The boys voices echo over the water, across the field. Laughter sounds so different outdoors. Like bells ringing out.

I breathe deeply and bless the Spring, and the maker of it.
I have needed the Spring.
Winter has been long this year . . . and hard.
And I have walked through a winter of the soul of late.
Crusted by cold-heartedness. Dormant. Hibernating. I have felt all these things at times throughout  this season.
I have felt shades of despair hanging over me like a low ceiling of gray clouds, bearing the storehouses of snow from the heavens about to be released, threatening to bury me.
And I am ready for the light and for the air. The warm breath of the Spirit of God that makes dead things live again.
This is the Springtime of the soul . . .of the heart . . . of the mind for me.
I turn my back on the winter of my discontent.

I face the Sun.
I head into the light.