It was beautiful out; the sun was shining, the breeze off the river was gentle, it was warm enough to be comfortable in just a sweatshirt – no coat. Nearly sixty degrees, it felt like spring – except it’s only February, historically, one of the coldest months of the year in these parts. The birds were singing as my girl and I ventured out for a stroll in the glory of the afternoon.
The walk was joyously invigorating. People were out in droves, the paths were packed with dogs and bikes, babies, and the elderly. Everyone wanted to go for a walk – it felt like spring.
I saw them peeping out from under the leaves on our way back. There wasn’t even any grass on the ground yet, and the crocuses were sprouting. First came the thrill – then the dismay. If the earth began to wake too early, all the lovely spring flowers would be frozen and killed in the next cold snap, and teens and twenties are the norm this time of year. Knowing they might not last, we stopped and stared a while – soaking in their delicate beauty.
It’s difficult not to be sad when we see things go wrong around us. Even when we can see some momentary brightness in the dark, there is no getting past the fact that timing is everything.
Lately, I’ve been struggling with timing. My idea of right on time does not at all seem like God’s and my patience and will have faltered. The problem is, I can’t see the big picture – I’m blinded by my own circumstances. Like the crocus that blooms too early, what we may think is the right time may not be best for us in the long run. Thankfully, we have a loving savior who knows what lies just around the bend, who is more concerned with the war than the battle, and whose help is always right on time.
For there is a time and a way for everything, although man’s trouble lies heavy on him. Ecclesiastes 8:6