Quietly, Quietly My Spring Has Come

I’ve been thinking a lot about seasons–how they feel nostalgic but also new. I knew the cherry blossom trees would all turn pink this week. But I’m still utterly delighted with each one I see. There’s something really sacred about a full-circle moment, isn’t there? It’s wild when you’ve walked through an entire cycle of seasons, and you’re far enough forward that you start to see how all the pieces really did come together. You begin to see the bigger picture taking form and the fruit you longed to see when you were on your knees in the dirt, sowing seeds and watering them with tears. 

My life shattered almost 10 years ago. An entire decade of grief. But also…an entire decade of healing. Sorrow that used to suffocate now feels like an old friend. I feel it often, but she doesn’t take me down any more. So much story has been written in my life over the last 10 years. I’ve suffered horrific losses–some that sting so much deeper than the loss of my marriage. Suffering is still beside me, but I’m not afraid of her anymore. It’s wild. It’s wonderful. It’s brimming with hope. Not optimism, but hope. The real kind that doesn’t shift on bad days. 

A lot has happened in 2026. Some very surprising plans were in the Lord’s book for my life. I’m planning to share more with you next week. 

It feels new and scary and right and good. It is a full-circle story. I guess it always has been–I just was too far back to see when the path looped over the edge, and I began walking back home. The Lord is wonderfully kind and gracious. Spring always comes, even when we forget and give up hope in the echoes of death and winter. My spring is here. I’m saying it with tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat. My spring is here. 

Yours is the day, yours also the night;
you have established the heavenly lights and the sun.
You have fixed all the boundaries of the earth;
you have made summer and winter.
PSALM 74:16-17