Spring. Sort of.

Living in Chicago, I have discovered that it's not intensity of the winter that bothers me. Oh sure, I'm not prone to leave the house with my young ones if the wind chills are below zero. But I have honestly thought a 17 degree day rather warm.

No, it's the length of the winter that's hard on me. March and April are the two hardest months. Once it hits 50 degrees, I want it to stay there. Which it never does. Observe.

This spring has been especially long in coming. It's been cooler than normal for Chicago. The tulips and daffodils we planted last October have pushed up through the ground, but have been in a stand off with the weather. They have budded, but refuse to bloom. Cold rain has kept us indoors. Sickness has kept us isolated. We are ready for warmth on our skin, new life for our souls.

I, too, feel as though I am battling a winter in my soul. But, in my heart, a stirring. A faith that I am on the brink of God's glorious spring. That out of this death will come life. God in his mercy gives us physical reminders of spiritual truth. I need them.