I sit in awe at the unfolding of spring around me. I am paralyzed by the beauty of the subtle spring wildflowers and trees as they blanket the ridges around Penuel Ridge with their soft hues of pink, lilac, yellow, purple and blue. I can't describe the exhuberance of the emerging shades of green at the tips of swollen branches.
My neighbor told me a story once...she was born and raised in New Jersey, but spent time in the South as a missionary. She recalled returning to the east coast after many years and weeping when spring arrived. I second that emotion. For me, spring in Houston meant an annual trip to the Ima Hogg mansion to view the azaleas in full bloom. They don't hold a candle to determined daffodils pushing their way through frozen ground and snow to wave their buttery faces at me on morning hikes.
Witnessing this season of renewal has humbled me, inspired me, dropped me to my knees in gratitude...left me breathless with wonder.
Wish you could all be here, witness this, weep with me.