Nothing is quite so remarkable as the change that takes place with the seasons passing. Where not so long ago we were surrounded by bare and brittle trees or jumbled hues of orange and gold and rust, we are now living in a world of branches resplendent in their spring whites, pinks, and purples.
Time never stops. season passes into season, change inevitably comes. As I gaze out my window, beyond the porch, into the trees in the backyard that each day put on new springtime clothes, I feel a sense of urgency. What have I accomplished today? The days continue to tick by; what am I doing that will yield eternal results? The person I pass on the street in town today will tomorrow be older — or dead. What have I done today so that his tomorrow will be something more than just his being one day older?
Granted, I’m house-bound currently, but in the past year, have I been kind to those around me, or have I been impatient and rude? Do I expect everyone to be perfect like me (or like I think I am), or do I allow for the imperfections everyone else permits me? Will the world be better tomorrow, because of something I’ve done today? Have I filled up each day using the gifts God has graciously entrusted to me? Have I used them or have I squandered them?
So much of life is process; so much of it is just paying attention. What good is our stumbling if we never look back to understand why we tripped? What good is a victory if it doesn’t leave us more humble? What good is life itself if tomorrow doesn’t find us better than we were the day before? In the magnificent untidiness of our life-walk, it is necessary to pause beneath the budding, blooming leaves of spring and examine the grace just spent. I want to learn to pay better attention: to listen, to observe, to learn.
Maybe that’s what this time is for.