Searching His Word Seeking His Heart
I trudged to the car. “Do I have to go to the Y?” I asked myself.
The last remnants of my cold were still hanging on. I felt tired from a long weekend with company, and added to that, my mother had a fall, then a fierce infection, and was very weak. “Yes, you have to go,” I told myself. “You’ve missed way too many days.”
So off I went. Daffodils stood proud in the neighbor’s yard and there by the road, forsythia waved its yellow arms at me. The low-lying bushes had already grown their new green leaves and with all the rain, the grass stood up, lush and green.
“Thank you, Lord,” I whispered, a reminder that spring brings hope. All can be renewed.
I made it through the Y exercises and the aerobic pool. Mother was finally able to get up and I helped her dress. I had plenty of left-overs at home to fix an easy supper. All was right with the world.
It reminded me of my little Spring poem. Thought I’d share it with you again.
I spouted my leaves one summer day, Small ones they were in the month of May. I watched the Oak tree, big and strong, Growing thousands of leaves all summer long.
Knock-out roses bore red blooms. “Where is my color?” I sat and fumed. Poppies, pansies, petunias, too All stood out with colorful hue.
The season wore on with this color-filled scene, But all I had to show was my same old green. Fall came along, the oak leaves turned red. My leaves just shriveled and fell off, quite dead.
Winter time came with the cold and the snow. The ice was so heavy, we bent our heads low. Finally temperatures warmed my cold heart. I lifted my head. “I’ll make a new start!”
Now the oak stands strong, though a bare-looking fellow, “But look at me, I’m blooming all yellow.” “Of course you are,” said the Oak, “Don’t be so ‘pithia.’ It’s your season now, for you’re a Forsythia!”
~ Joyce ~