Sunlight comes earlier now, and nudges me up along with some melodious chirping each day. I get fresh dirt in my nails as I dig into the ground, tilling the earth around some tulips unfurling in my front yard of their own volition. Spring reminds me always of new chances, fresh growth that's inspiring: from the pear blossoms waving in the breeze, to the daffodils brazenly challenging what's left of winter to bring it--they're here to stay. Makes me smile.
This kind of renewal happened within my soul as I listened to Alice Camille and attended a penance service for Lent just this past week--she reminded her listeners of the ways we need to surrender ourselves now, and always, to the next moment, how time marches on in our lives regardless of what we try to do to slow it down, control or master it. For those of us not so in love with our wrinkles, this is bad news, of course, but in truth the more important mark of time comes in the way we cherish it. Along the way there's plenty of struggle with change, which, as Alice put it, rocks our complacency. As I listened to her speak, I wondered if I have tilled the soil of my soul, and how I will learn to master my fear and be as bold as the daffodils.
A piece of this message had to do with forgiveness--with coming to terms with ourselves and others and freeing ourselves to love and live rather than fear. I know it can be hard to come to terms with forgiving our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass, but in the end we cannot transform ourselves into the humans we're meant to be without letting go and creating that opening into which God can pour ever more grace into us.