Signs of Spring

These are the last February days of trudging through cold winter... I am snug warm in bed, while my husband is watching a documentary about the Civil War.  He has been watching it each night this week, as I drift off to descriptions of carnage and slaughter.  Not quite pleasant dreams, and wondering. How we ever made it through.  And when we will ever learn.

But look on the bright side, my husband remarks: the elimination of half the male population in this country brought new opportunities to others and eventually the growth of this nation, with jobs abounding and open doors for immigrants everywhere... and, well the rest is history. From lost limbs and lost lives came regeneration.... 

I drift into drowsiness. From the tiniest seed that has survived the long winter, new life begins to emerge.  In the sunlight of day, I see the buds in the trees, and the birds that are building their nests.  

From the longest winter, I enter this time of year that in my life has over and over again meant hospitals, hospices, and the loss of loved ones. Now my mother-in-law has completed a chemo treatment, and she is on the rise to recovery.  A 3 week hospital stay is nearing the end, and though the months ahead will not be easy, we believe the worst is over. 

I pray for this-- the recovery of our spirits that have suffered this winter, deep sadness and loss in many ways.  We have suffered the loss of children in Newtown that broke our hearts and our innocence,  but we are continuing to love. I think of my friends in that town tonight as my 6 year old daughter bursts into song and sings of the coming of Spring. 

I am reminded of a poem I wrote in the early days of 2004, when life kicked beneath stretched belly skin.  We know there is no reason to bury what's survived, I wrote this after hearing the heartbeat of my daughter, eight weeks in gestation, just a day after my husband's dear cousin was killed in a car crash.  

Tonight this daughter of eight years tells me how happy she is with her new cat.  She tells me how much she loves Smokey, the male who curls up on her lap and loves her.  And though she still misses her dear Chloe who died last summer, she has begun to heal and find new joy. 

We know there is no reason to bury what's survived. 

Sunfish quick as ripples swim through thawed ice. 

As I look for signs of spring, they emerge. 

Friends of mine weep with joy as they are adopting a child today-- a four month old baby. Her 16 year old mom will also be a part of their family.  We sing of good news, as we sort through our old hand-me-downs...though we have little left in this baby's size, as  over the years, little by little bags have been donated - to shelters and floods and hurricane relief efforts. We will prepare our care package to deliver- our gift for the newborn babe.  

Yes, though the winter is hard and the days of February loom heavy in our hearts, I can see the ice beginning to thaw.  We are leaning into the light, stretching toward Spring.