The end of winter

We went from this:

to this:

in two days.  

60 degrees never feels so good as in early March--especially when you're still reeling from record cold and a couple feet of snow.

Since I could *see* the road at last, I forewent my usual treadmill jog and took a run outside.  (In shorts and a t-shirt!  Last time I ran outside I wore a hat and mittens!)

It was glorious.  The robins have suddenly descended upon us en masse, all skinny and frantically busy pulling up worms.  The trees were ringing with birdsong and the streams along the road were burbling and swollen, making beautiful music.  The sun was warm on my back.

Every season tells of the glory of God, to be sure.  The fresh snow reminds us that though our sins were as scarlet, He washes us whiter than snow.

But spring just seems to shout good news, doesn't it?  New life bursts forth--like Jesus from the tomb on Easter.  The rushing streams wash away all the muck and mess and memory of winter, just as He washes away our sin and will one day wash away all memory of our sorrow.  Birds sing above, reminding us of the ever-praising angels around the throne.  Light dawns earlier each day, reminding us that the one Light is returning.

C. S. Lewis understood this, which is why he describes heaven in The Last Battle as being in springtime:  

They stood on grass, the deep blue sky was overhead, and the air which blew gently on their faces was that of a day in early summer...  

Their hearts leaped and a wild hope rose within them.       

"There was a real railway accident," said Aslan softly...  "The term is over:  the holidays have begun."

"Arise, my darling, my beautiful one,

And come along.

For behold, the winter is past,

The rain is over and gone."

~Song of Solomon 2:10-11