Out of Hybernation

We had so much ice and snow this past winter, it seemed like everything died and it was hard to even imagine that it used to be green. There were days when I would drive down the street and everywhere I looked was this interminable color of grey and bleak yellow. And at some point in the never ending winter, I think I doubted the spring. I lost hope, or rather let go of hope. I always knew where to find it again, but I just didn’t have the strength to look.

Yet even in the bleakest part of winter, which by the way is not the snow. I actually love the snow with it’s merry adventures, and winter gear, and hot chocolate afterwards. No matter when the snow comes, it feels like Christmas. The harshest part for me is when the snow is gone, but the ground is still frozen and dead and the temperatures have plummeted to unbearable lows. It was in those harshest days when I felt the winter creeping into my very soul. I lost my joy this winter. As if someone had siphoned the life from me, I couldn’t seem to find the energy to keep going. I lost me.

At one point, as I starred at the grey fence which surrounds my yard, and the crushed yellow grass that surrounds my home, I felt as if everything would be right again in my world if I could just see beauty again. I remembered why I planted my rose bushes in the first place, and I craved their beautiful presence back again. But the winter wind kept on blowing, and my soul sank lower into it’s snowy banks.

And even though spring has come again, as I look at my rose bushes, I see that they have fared a bit like my soul. My very most favorite rose bush died this winter. It was a Rio Samba and it looked like a firework display of color when in full bloom. Brilliant reds, oranges and yellows when it was blooming, and then the flowers would fade to pink and white as the blooms aged. The result was spectacular, and my heart is sad that it’s gone. And in my low moments, I have wondered if some of the fireworks that make up me are gone too.

Every rose bush in my garden had to be severely cut back due to the cold. I have never had to do such a severe pruning as I have had to this spring. Every single bush suffered, and it just confirmed what I had felt all winter. As I suffered inside, they were sufferring too. They were supposed to be hibernating (or whatever it is that flowers do in winter), but parts of them were dying too. And I’m pretty sure that parts of me died this winter as well, or maybe it just feels that way.

Yet as I watch the shoots of life coming from the very roots of my roses, I can feel the stirring in my soul as well. My roots go down deep, I have survived this winter, and beautiful things are coming. I’m not the same person, but I also know that the roses in my garden that have survived this winter, will survive any winter. And somehow, I believe that the same is true of my soul.

I’m beginning to dream again. I want to write again. I want to work in my garden and plant plants. And the good news is (for this blog anyway), I’m ready to talk finances again. I think. But then again, I’m just a grumpy bear fresh out from hibernation. Maybe I should climb a honey tree or two and get back to you. Just kidding. I am considering a site overhaul, if I can get my sweet husband to work nights for me and design it. But he’s in demand right now (Praise the Lord!!), so it might take a while.

In the mean time, I hope that spring has come to your heart as well. But if you are still waiting, I pray this will be an encouragement:

“To everything there is a season,

a time for every purpose under the sun.
A time to be born and a time to die;

a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
a time to kill and a time to heal

…a time to weep and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn and a time to dance

…a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to lose and a time to seek;

a time to rend and a time to sew;

a time to keep silent and a time to speak;

a time to love and a time to hate;

a time for war and a time for peace.”
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

My prayer is that this new season would be a season of life for you and for me, a season of planting, healing, laughing and dancing. It’s a good time to come to life and it’s a great time to come out of hybernation.

In memory of my Rio Samba: