Do I dare mention spring yet? This has been one cold and weird winter for most of the USA—Even Arizona got snow in Scottsdale, just a half hour drive north of us, and Tucson, a couple hours southeast, the other day covering all the outdoor spring-training fields, and stadium roofs…Oh my! Anyone still believing in ‘Global Warming’ doesn’t live down here!
Well, I’m hopin’ the snow and cold in your part of the country is receding. It’s so great to see crocus, bluebells, buttercups, wild daisies, golden rod, and sunflowers popping up on hills, and meadow as snow disappears to welcome another spring. Though, when Easter came to northeastern Washington State where I was raised, we’d still be leapin’ snow banks to hunt those colorful eggs unless the date was late in April when it would be warmer and usually sunny. And flowers were generally covering the hills more toward the end of April than March—we were only eighty miles from the Canadian border, so that explains why our winters were long and cold with spring coming late most years.
This year, Easter is barely going to catch the end of this month, so churches are making ready for Lent and Palm Sunday already. Being a Baptist, I know most of our events will be planned around food, so I’m sure an Easter banquet is in the works by now. (No wonder I struggle with a weight problem continuously!)
As a youngster, my church experience was not withstanding. The one thing I most hated was going to the little, log, Lutheran Church my mother, aunt, and their parents belonged to. It was very, very small with no youth program, but a catechism we cousins were all forced to attend in order to join the church, (whether we wanted to or not) and have a water-sprinkling baptism after finishing the lesson book at around twelve or thirteen. I hated the whole idea, and found that church so painfully boring, it almost drove me wild. The preacher was very stern, and I can honestly say, I never saw him smile. Kids were to be totally controlled-little-robots sitting like statues at all times in his services, and never to speak unless spoken to. Yuk! All that brought out in me was rebellion—certainly not love for God, myself, or my fellow human beings!
I’m grateful Mom made us go to church though to at least introduce us to the fact “THERE IS A GOD”, but if it were up to that particular church to teach me about salvation, and having a personal relationship with Christ, it never would have happened.
I also look forward to this time of year because spring is soon to come with all it’s beautiful greenery bursting forth on barren trees and shrubs, flowers are opening in glorious colors, and people are crawling out of warm dens to communicate with each other face to face once again.
As a kid, this time of year also meant “new life” was bustin’ out all over. Calves were being born right and left, and so were sheep, so things were beginning to get goin’ again after a long winter lay-off by late March. There were fields to be planted, and garden plots to be plowed under with lots of rich chicken or horse manure before spring plantin’ came in early May up where we lived.
The only thing I dread about spring now is; knowing another sweltering summer of Arizona heat will soon be upon us. We try to travel back up north to see the kids & grand-kids at least six weeks out of every summer to escape the worst of it, but can’t be away the four long months when it’s so hot you can fry an egg on the sidewalk any day of the week. Now, I’m not complainin’ ‘cause the other eight months are divine, so I’ll take the trade off.
Write and tell me what your fondest memories of spring are…
Is there anything as soothing as a warm Chinook Wind in spring? Here’s a poem that hopefully will take you on a lovely journey riding those winds…
WHISPERS ON THE WIND
Wind blowing gently across brow an’ cheek,
whispering—revealing secrets we keep.
Wind can be our master, even our best friend,
taking us to places we have never been.
Wind beyond horizons, billowing in sails,
whispering in dreams—poems we’ve yet to tell.
Wind sweeping beaches, swaying tallest trees,
moving to the rhythm of gulls and bumblebees.
Wind pushing clouds brisk across the sky,
children forming images as they scurry by.
Wind bringing memories tearing at the heart,
deepening the wound of lovers torn apart.
If only we would listen, we surely could depend
on messages from Heaven whispering on the wind.