Spring with all of its glorious, healing sun and warmer weather and green buds.
But when I look out the window, all I see are piles of snow and gray skies and long bare branches and rainy sleet dripping from clouds, beading and sliding down the window panes in the middle of March.
I feel like those rain drops.
Slowly sliding down down down into a never-ending pile of winter.
I wake up to more gray skies, and my prayers feel like they've been pleaded in vain.
Same as the ones I've cried and then finally laid at His feet while anxiety swelled in my heart the very first day we found out we were pregnant
Only to lose our baby just before the second trimester began.
Just like the night I begged God to allow our midwife to find baby's heartbeat.
Only to find ourselves weeping over the loss in a hospital waiting room in the length of after hours.
Same as the ones where I cried out for Him to send my body into labor and save me from surgery.
Only to find myself in an operating room late last Tuesday night.
I see a lot of prayers, seemingly unanswered.
I look outside, and I see snow.
I look outside, and winter still seems spread out thick over the land.
But I know better.
I know better than to stop looking after first or second glance. And I know we often see only what we look for.
I know better than to get so stuck on those barren branches that I miss the spring birds that briefly land on them.
So I look closer for spring, and I find it in lengthening days.
I look for spring and see the promise of green just barely poking through dark, wet soil.
I look for spring, and I see beneath the snow, in the rain
where love is showered over our hearts in the midst of grief
and mercy is born in delivering my sweet baby at home
and grace is granted in the OR
and hope is replanted in my heart after a conversation in the recovery room
and Words black on the white page of what Stands Forever.
And I see it all in the rain.
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