Saturday, as I hiked and climbed among my father’s kingdom, I discovered a lone flower, as the light from a fading afternoon slipped away from the tangled flora of the Laurel Creek Valley. Now, the snow covers it and most of the world around here. Spring seems a distant hope…
Yet, here in the vale of another place, the thaw has caught fever, streams running into seams in the pavement, and the promise is returning…slowly. There are few of those now that one can trust, but like the hope of a father who loves his children with all his heart, so this too always returns, to embrace us with more signs of miracles. For every one of the lone dandelions that emerge, every one of the facets of green, point to a promise we all can trust, and that trust will never fade into winter…
