Spring is a Promise

Spring is a promise
in the closed fist
of a long winter. All
we have is a raw
slant of light at a low
angle, a rising river
of wind, and an icy rain
that drowns out green
in a tide of mud. It is
the daily postponement
that disillusions.
(Once again the performance
has been canceled by
the management.) We live
on legends of old
springs. Each evening
brings only remote
possibilities of
renewal: "Maybe
tomorrow." But the
evening and the morning
are the umpteenth day
and the God of sunlit
Eden still looks
on the weather
and calls it good.

It's no secret I love Luci Shaw's poetry. After a weekend of warm temperatures and open windows we are back to a cold rain today and this poem reminds me it is all good.

I spent much of the weekend holding up my dear Angie in prayer as she was back in the hospital with an infection. I wrestled with God over His purpose in allowing more trial. I prayed He would help Angie to see the "raw slant of light" in the midst of another cold rain. I prayed she would be able to hold onto the promises of her God, our God, that renewal is coming and even this is working for good. As I pray truth I struggle with my own doubt. Is spring really coming?