As I sit basking in the warmth of the sun, feeling my hands warm up and ice melt from my heart: I ponder the dead garden in front of me. It's old plants bent, brown, looking forlorn and overlooked. Yet, I know that much goes on beneath the surface. The Lord is never idle. I look forward to spring, to bright light and green shoots. May I be like that plant that springs forth from the dirt: roots already deepening through the winter's dim light. Green shoots reaching for Your light, ready to bud and bloom. May I bear rich, sweet fruit unto You. May my roots ever deepen, not to be found short and stunted but deeply planted, healthy, ready for every good work.
I know that it may be winter here, yet You work still. May my heart not be found icy, bare, brown. May you find the soil readily tilled, awaiting Your work and ready for the seed you will scatter.
Thank You for the warmth that You have spread across my heart, chasing away the winter's chill.
