The ice has broken on the creek. For three months the ice strangled my little bit of the creek, turning flowing water into a coughing stream. Six-inch ice shelves still hug the shore, but spring is here. And with spring comes thoughts of death. For my part of the world was death, but now life is on the breeze. The trees are beginning to breath again. The bush branches contain a bit more strength as I plow through the forest. The death of the winter has passed, and though much has perished, life all around me has survived.
With these thoughts I continue my Lenten journey. With mud replacing snow I remember my initial state. For dust we are, and dust we shall return. But before that return, life has come and will come to those muddy puddles, as life has come to me. Around me I see tentative shoots of green amidst the stubborn banks of snow. Warmth and cold, life and death, wrapped together within and without.
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