On its way

     I heard a bird singing outside my window this morning as I made the bed. I was scurrying around the room trying to find all the discarded throw pillows. As I reached down to pull a gray and white one from under the bed I heard the ardent sound.

It is spring!

     I found myself going to the window trying to see this bird. I hoped it was a little red-winged blackbird, but not a Blue Jay. It is unfair how he swoops in to steal the other bird’s food and interrupts their songs. Territorial and instinctively mean to others, the Blue Jay bullies his way through life. I don’t care for birds or people like this. 

    Walking to the kitchen I looked out through the patio door into the snow-covered farmland stretching behind the house. An old barn to the left could be the perch for a hundred barn swallows at a time, but today I didn’t see a solitary winged messenger. Still, the sound of the mystery bird’s singing filled me with a sense of hope.

    It is early March and yet the weather keeps dropping fluffy snowflakes. My daughter is starting her track season. They run in the elements. My little boy, the kindergartener, still packs his snow pants and boots for school recess. I am still wearing my canary yellow winter coat everywhere. It is getting dirty and needs a good wash, but the weather is unpredictable. It is my only winter coat, I didn’t get a new one for Christmas this year.

     In the kitchen, by the table, I put my face to the cold glass to look up into the tall Oak tree. The snow is caked on each branch like powder sugar frosting as the wind moves the barren branches with force. In the snow near the fire pit, a lone Green Hulk Toy pokes out from my son’s handmade mountain. The temperatures have been too cold to melt his work. 

    My stomach growls as I realize I have not had breakfast. Being on a diet to reduce the fluff I had gained while hibernating to finish this book has not been easy. I am hopeful. Just like the song of the unknown bird reminding me spring is coming, the growl from my stomach reminds me of my commitment.

   I made a group of friends on social media to report our victories and struggles. It feels good to know someone cares how hard it is to take control of the food I eat in the midst of the bleak Iowan winter. But the song coming through the walls of my country home lilting above the growl of the wind awakens me to the new. Though I can’t quite see it, the season is changing. And I am sure I am changing with it. The bed is made, the children are off to school, and I am sitting in the writer’s chair typing my thoughts. It is here in the quiet of the morning when my inner thoughts can finally sing. Like the little red-winged blackbird calling to her friends to join her on the eavestrough of the farmhouse, I am reminding myself, Spring is coming.

    Sometimes this is how hope must begin, with reminding. I must remind myself of years gone by and how March is just a moody month in Iowa. The weather is unpredictable and usually cold, but the little bird’s song triggers the hope of a fresh start. At once I feel the stirring of anticipation. Nature is calling to say, “Winter is not going to last forever.”

Why do I want to hide when I am going through a rough patch?

I have to remember I have been here before. Seasons come and go, but it is important to remind ourselves of the ground we have already crossed and these victories already won. I need to dig deep to touch the faith in me like a hidden river. Faith’s current is too fast and vigorous to freeze. God has not changed his mind about me even when I am chilled by the winds of doubt. No, I must remind myself of His goodness. Being positive doesn’t always come naturally. Don’t we all need others to help us climb out of the mully grubs. Life was never meant to be lived alone. 

I’m ready for the new season to begin, how about you? Under the snow, I believe new growth has begun. What if it took a winter for the richest things in us to finally rest long enough to bloom again? Are you ready for a fresh start? Because friend, even if there is still snow on the ground and you can’t put your winter coat in storage yet…it is coming.

How do I know…? A little birdie told me.

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