SPRING 2019

In Colorado in spring daffodils bloom. Snow falls. Daffodils heads are plunged into the cold white blanket. Rarely do they ever return their gaze to the sun. More times than not, their blooms remain down for the duration of their short lives.

It always makes me sad. I want to see them return to their former glory. As usual, this year twenty daffodils bloomed. The next day 3 inches of snow fell on them. Not one has lifted their head.  I don’t want to be like the beautiful daffodil although I wait all year to see their beauty.

I want to be more like the tree. It waits. Its gnarly branches endure winter. It weathers the wind and cold. It sees spring is here. It does not change. It waits. The factory is open on the inside beginning production of coming out of hibernation. But on the outside it waits. Its branches rise above the trunk. It is prepared for leaves. It waits. It waits until the right moment. Then it is glorious. Leaves drink in the sunshine. It lasts throughout the end of spring, all summer, and into fall.  

Then Jesus said to them, “I ask you, which is lawful on the Sabbath; to do good or to do evil, to save life or to destroy it?”