I never fail to be enchanted this time of the year; this seasonal transition from winter to spring.  The ground is giving birth to green. Crocus are sprouting and opening with purple and yellow.  Daffodils are encased in their green cocoons waiting to burst open.  Tulips are pushing above ground still hiding their treasure. Mystery plants begin to peek above earth’s crust.  What is even more fascinating requires a closer look.  From the trees and shrubs which appear barren and dry, are buds pushing to life.  From what seems lifeless is about to push forth green leaves and lush blossoms.  What is silent is about to scream with life.  Into the still cold air there is a movement towards the sun.

I am inspired by this process because it speaks of hope and symbolizes our own human journey.  As the plants have had to withdraw for winter renewal, we too need to withdraw from time to time when we are wounded. 

“It is human nature to withdraw when we are wounded… (but) we have to return to life above ground at some point.  At some point we have to turn off the instinct to flee and properly tend to the wound; courageously exploring thoughts and feelings attached to them.  This begins the task of waking after the long winter.”   

                          –Kim Johancen-Walt, LPC, Counseling Today, April 2013  

 As the buds brave the cold air of early spring in order to bloom, we also need to take risks, armed with hope and vision, and step into the sunlight.  The sunlight reveals the wounds as well as the possibilities.  There we find the hope and the strength.