waiting in the mudhole

My backyard is a mudhole.  It's been rained through, snowed down, and iced over.  It's a mudhole now.  The grass is trampled under dog's feet and children's toes.  The game of fetch.  The hide and seek race.  The bicycles down the hill.  It's a mudhole.  I keep asking my husband if it's ruined.  If we managed to take our beautiful new yard that was kept so immaculately by it's previous owners, and we just trampled on it and killed it all.  He continues to reassure me it isn't dead.  It hasn't been destroyed.  Afterall, all of the rain and water is actually great for this winter lawn.  It's soaked deep down and the slosh remaining up along the surface is no reflection of the growth underneath...waiting to sprout.

Such is our lives these days.  We have been in a season of great weather.  It has rained hard and snowed us in and iced us over.  Somewhere between the tears and the trials, I am left somewhat of a soggy mudhole myself.

But I am reminded of Spring.  I am reminded of the underneath waiting to sprout.  I am reminded that what is presently seen is no reflection of what is to come.  What is waiting to come.  And that the weather has not been a tool of destruction, but a source of nourishment.  To nourish that which is to come.

I'm okay with this.  I'll wait some more.  Because I know as sure as the sun continues to shine, the seasons continue to change.  I know that because it's winter, Spring is on it's way.  I know this.  It's coming.  The ice is thawing and souls are being watered.... hope is in the waiting....faith is in the knowing.  

Thank you, Jesus... that in this moment, you have given me both.