Spring

In our team meetings, we share “peaches and pits”—highs and lows of the past couple of weeks. Someone said her peach was that “spring had sprung.” She saw the flowers budding on the trees in her yard and all across town. “Look around, you’ll see it!”

I know what preceded her saying that. We all do. It has been a winter indeed—maybe less so in physical form here in Texas, but definitely within. I know many who are coming out of a “winter of soul” of sorts. I’ve had my own, mild as it may be. Tears, hard conversations, questions without answers. A lot of now whats and what ifs.

But I feel that shift now. I let it descend on me in sun-soaked glory this weekend on the front deck. The lake on the horizon. Hope on the wind.

I recently chatted with two of Waco’s greats at an art show. We gabbed on and on about how much we admired each other and why we love this quirky, vivacious town. “This community is the kind that people dream of.” And in that moment, my friend articulated something I had felt for almost five years and never knew how to say. She was right. Here I was, living and breathing what I had, unknowingly, always wanted. What a great thing to remember coming out of a hard season—and an anchor for the ones that will inevitably come.

While we sipped our wine and talked safely inside, a storm raged outside. Tornado watch sirens roared. By the time I had mingled and made my rounds (twice), I decided to brave the weather and walk to my car a couple of blocks away. I rolled up my bootleg jeans and ventured out.

The air had chilled, and wind blew my hair in every direction while rain soaked my sandaled feet. I felt so alive. Owen Wilson may brag about the magic of Paris in the rain, but I’ll joyfully take Waco in the rain any day.

Winter still holds on—threading its sense of barrenness throughout our lives. Some close to me are grieving devastating loss, wading through a sense of purposelessness, or fighting an unshakeable weariness.

But still, in all of the struggle, there is light. There is feasting and dancing and new life—literally. A close friend just had a baby, and many others are expecting. I’ve witness others (and myself) reclaim a sense of confidence, knowing we are made ready for where we are and where we’re going. Maybe there’s some grief and unsettledness in one hand, but by gosh, there’s gratitude and resilience in the other.

Spring is here. And looking back, I realize glimpses of promise and hope had been breaking through all along.