Whispers of the Lamb

Like the small purple flowers that poke through the muddy rivulets of the cold earth, springtime in Tennessee can be a struggle. Yes, the winter’s been a cold one. More snow than we’ve had in ten years. But there’s also the beautiful sights of spring that warm the heart, even though the temperature today will barely climb into the fifties.

So here I am, sitting on a caned-seat chair, looking over the white porch railing onto the emerald grass in my front yard. It’s fitting that I begin Southern Grace here, porch-sitting and philosophying.

Just last weekend, booming thunderstorms rolled across our area, causing me to grab a warm November sweater and leave my winter clothes in the closet for at least another week. Winter’s holding on like a lion.

But there are whispers of the lamb. Bursting dogwood blooms surprise me with a cloud of beauty as I glance out an upstairs window. Yellow- blooming bushes and the afore-mentioned purple flowers refuse the dark cold and open to the sunshine. Warmth seeps in and chases away the cold, sunlight melts the gray clouds.

I’m shaking off the cold but the comforting sights of spring tell me a new season is coming. It is arriving, even now.

How fitting that the Grace from heaven also appeared on a hostile, unwelcoming earth. On a cold Good Friday, He suffered the ultimate struggle. But the promise of a new day was not lost. He burst forth into beauty and brought hope to the rest of us who look forward to the Grace that is to come.  

Tempestuous winter may roar like a lion, but the lion is tamed. Springtime’s coming. We’ll come out like a lamb.