The sky is still that pre-dawn pink color and the family room is quiet.  Every so often I can hear Jake the dog snore, already dozing again after his rapidly-consumed breakfast.  I’m in no hurry to turn on the TV or even grind the coffee beans yet; there’s an almost sacredness to this blissful silence.  Hardly any cars pass by on the street outside the window and things are just so very peaceful until…I hear the faintest chirping sound.  I strain my ears to hear and sure enough, there it is again…I get up off the couch to look out the window overlooking the raised garden bed.  No birds to be seen, but those are birds I hear.

I know there’s plenty of birds that stick around in Central New York all winter.  I know there’s still another month until spring.  But the sound of birds outdoors this morning is enough to remind me that this winter cannot last forever.  Springtime always comes.  There’s a rhythm to the seasons.  But we must wait.

In the beginning days of the Lenten season, Easter seems so far away.   Our liturgies are simpler, the Alleluia’s gone, and bare branch wreaths adorn our doors.   We take time to pause, to reflect, to look inward, to reach out to others.  Easter always comes.  There’s a rhythm to the liturgical seasons.  But we must wait.

Every springtime season I challenge myself to pay attention to the buds on the trees and try to determine when the leaves really appear.  That probably sounds strange, but once we get a couple of nice springtime days, I forget that challenge and it’s not until the leaves have been around a week or two that I remember I was supposed to watch.  This year will be different.  I hope.

Every Lenten season I challenge myself to pay attention to the Scriptures, to do Lent a little bit better than last year.  Most years I take a few steps forward and occasionally those are followed by a few steps back.  Ash Wednesday this year found me with a sinus congestion and a drippy nose.  It wasn’t pretty, and I never even got Ashes.   But I’m not giving up.  We still have lots of time left before Easter.  I got this.  I have a faith community to journey with me.  And birdsong to remind me that Easter, like springtime, always comes.















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