Thread by @BethMooreLPM

I write to you this morning as the sun slices brightly through the white oaks, pines and sycamores behind our home. Tears fill my eyes often these days and as often over awe and gladness as sadness. The gifts to be had here—stubborn beauties among thorns—-grow sacred with age.

A week ago I left our home in the woods to go see my eldest daughter & her family. I left a new herb garden brown & wilted that had sprouted back my hope. I left brand new baby fruit trees drooping, leafless. Drove past more fallen limbs than I could count. Winter’d come killing.

Of nature’s 4 daughters, Winter is the meanest but I am certain, at least in my own mind, that Spring is the most defiant. Maybe we don’t notice because she’s a bit passive aggressive. I don’t know if I told you but Lavender turns an eerie gray, like a human corpse, when it dies.

I was away 4 days. Home, I headed outside as I always do. Green scallop-edged sprouts were growing up irreverently through that gray corpse like they did not know a funeral home when they saw one. Every herb was back. “You were dead,” I said. “Well, we’re back,” they clacked.

Oh, I know. There’s nothing new about this story. People have been musing about Daughter Spring since a human hand first held a writing tool. But, really, isn’t that the miracle of it? That she never grows old? That something about her is oddly ageless? Eternal?

She mischievously whispers through branch and breeze that somewhere beyond our sight, Eden thrives. Did I mention that my grapevines are sprouting? Did I mention that so much has died in me this last week? This last year? Did I mention that I am too tired to come back to life?

Nothing in creation is as defiant as resurrection. Spring draws her courage from an empty tomb. She drew it for centuries by faith, hearing rumors from heaven that it was inevitable. Spring, you see, was our first Magdalene. Our first evangelist, preaching risenness in advance.

Resurrection is coming for me. I can feel it. It doesn’t matter that I’m too tired. Doesn’t matter that I’ve died. It is determined to play a song I can’t resist waking to. Shaking to. Dancing to. This world has killed us. But Jesus who defied death & hell is wooing us to life.