Indefinable. In the air. Warmed and separated from the chill of winter. The skies still fill with grey, the rains fall, a shiver transpires, but the temperatures sneak upward ever so s l o w l y. The sun shines farther, reaching us finally. Birds rejoice with songs and voices overlapping from early morning to dusk. And, no matter how long it takes to move the calendar date, Spring is coming. I can smell it.
March will fight on with its bluster, its defiant remnant and dying declaration of winter whooshing through its divided days, proclaiming the end of death and dormant hours with the tolling bell of hope as daffodils and tulips burst through the ground in triumph, noting the sober recognition that even winter dies and gives way to life.
Breathing deep the changing of the air, it is official: a season will arrive on time. The scent assures me of the constancy and orchestration of a God who is never late. A God who even takes time to tend to the fragrant aromas, each a distinct mark of the passings of seasons.
The power of smell to accompany a change. The senses enhanced by memories of scent. Unnoticed by a child but remembered by the adult. Breath. Hope. Life.
Father, how I love the seasons. Unique here where you have me, their own personalities and scents. Thank you for the beauty of life. So many thank yous. I love you, Lord. Jesus, you have been so faithful, so real. Holy Spirit, I need you constantly—thank you for always being here. Keep me strong in you, God, in the Name of Jesus, Amen.
*Please remember to pray for Kristy Dykes.*