This New Path

Last week I wrote about the gorgeous snowfall we had. This week we've had three or four days of spring-like temperatures. The blossoms on the cherry and pear trees are coming out. The dogwoods in the back yard are budding. Daffodils are popping up everywhere. I have a confirmed case of spring fever.

I remember a few years ago another spring-like day. This one was long-awaited, not because of the weather but because of the occasion. I wore a gorgeous long dress covered with pearls and carried beautiful flowers in purples and blues. My daughter looked like a tiny fairy princess in pink georgette, her small white basket of matching flowers trailing white ribbons. On my father's arm, I floated down the steps to a favorite selection from Edward Elgar's "Enigma." After kissing my parents and my daughter, I went to meet my groom at the front--not of a church but of a theater we both loved. I could not believe that it was actually happening, that God had brought me and this man together. The scripture that was read, the songs sung, the readings shared, were all intended to celebrate and worship God and His love for us as well as our love for each other. It was a beautiful day.

I write about my wedding every year on this or my other blog, Christians in the Arts, because it was art-filled and beauty-filled. And because my husband and I still are amazed and so grateful that we are walking this new path together.

Pocketful of Petals

Though we don't have any, cherry trees are popular in our area. Several of them grace the grounds at my daughter's school. One breezy spring day, while I was walking down the sidewalk next to her building, I noticed piles of pink cherry blossom petals against the curb. The wind had collected and deposited them at my feet. They still looked fresh--pink and delicate and perfect. I had the urge to lean down, gather them up and stuff them in my pockets for later--maybe for some cold day in January when the winter landscape stretches as far as the eye can see. Or for some afternoon in late summer when it's so hot we can't stay outside for long and the days are racing toward the start of the school year. If only those petals could bring spring, my favorite season, back again with its abundant beauty.

But then I'd miss fall--the spectacular leaves, the blessedly cooler temperatures, the crisp fragrance of change. And winter, with its strange and spare beauty, cold air making freckled noses pink and your breath turn to steam. I'd miss winter's promise of spring, of new life inside the cold earth. The anticipation of renewal, resurrection.

As beautiful as those petals were, I couldn't hold onto them any more than I can hold onto time itself. And despite the imminent end of summer, I'm looking forward to seeing the leaves put on their show before floating to the earth and becoming part of what's to come.