Ordinarily, this time of year, having endured a few months of cold, cold winter, all I can think of is spring and its radiant, fluorescent greens, the delightful, sunny, flannel-shirt days to come in the yard and garden, and the long brisk walks in the morning that I have missed so much. But this year, when I’ve tried to conjure these moods and feelings, they have often become obscured by the confusion of today’s politics, the divisions and the rancor, the complications of family, the almost daily occurrences of weather-related tragedy, the extremes that have come upon us, the threat of the pandemic and the difficulties of loss and diminishment.
And I find myself like Winnie the Pooh, in a ponderation, full of thingish thoughts but without the clever plans. I don’t seem to have enough brain to contemplate it all.
I cannot see the forks in the road ahead. I cannot imagine what life will require me to consider tomorrow.
I cannot see the forks in the road ahead. I cannot imagine what life will require me to consider tomorrow. I plod ahead with a cautious routine, knowing it may change at any time. I cannot predict the urges that will send me one way or another either, or the cautious retreats that I will take for my own personal reasons and necessary protection. Who knows what is going to happen? This week the skin cancer on my face is healing wonderfully and I don’t think I’ll have to go seeking surgery, but then again, I did wreck my car last week in an unfortunate and stupid misjudgment of speed and distance. Luckily, no one was hurt, but I could only afford liability insurance and do not have enough money to replace my car. My neighbor, the real one, John, not the imaginary one, Homer, just happened to have too many cars and gave me one to fill the gap, and I am so very grateful for a friend who cares enough to give. I guess I can only trudge on through the mysteries of my unfolding fate.
The thing that upholds me is my faith. And I love to say this because, as some of you know, I have a daughter named Faith, who lives just up the road in Second Creek, and she often upholds me with loving encouragement and wise counsel. But I am speaking of my relationship with God. Though faith falters in me at times, the bond remains unbroken because He has strong hands and holds me tight. And I am assured and have certain knowledge that good will triumph over evil, that love will be rewarded, that my soul will find rest and my children will be blessed.
Let’s believe in spring, too. We have it every year and I think it was designed just to encourage us.
Let’s believe in spring, too. We have it every year and I think it was designed just to encourage us. So many things appear to be dead all winter, but then somehow, miraculously, they spring to life again. We need to do that, to remember what it was like before this time of troubles. Let’s feed our expectation for the future with hope, and the enthusiasm of spring with plans that include charitable acts towards our neighbors, love for our enemies and meaningful choices for our Mother Earth who sustains us. May God bless you all.
– Larry Berger. HashtagWV #140. March 2022. Read more of Larry’s stories and poems at sinksgrovepress.wordpress.com.
Larry Berger was raised by a degreed child psychologist and a mail-order tycoon in a suburban brat-factory north of Chicago. After being permanently expelled from his local high school, Larry and his family moved to the lovely white sand beaches of Sarasota, Florida.