while it is still called today

Today is a gift.

I see it written on the wing of a Monarch butterfly; wrapped in a cigar roll leaf that holds a caterpillar cocoon; tucked into the pods of a touch-me-not and spotted along the back of the leopard frogs in the muddy pools.

Today is a gift.

I walk, I rejoice, I glory in the hot sun of a late September day after a cooler than usual summer.

Today I could shout it from the rooftops or dance it out in a newly mown field.

In the back of my mind is tomorrow.

One of these tomorrows will bring snow and icy blasts that make me fight with the door to open it. The drafts running down my back will remind me that my schoolhouse was built before insulation. My electric blanket and fleece pajamas will run overtime and hot drinks keep the kettle bubbling.

However,

Tomorrow will become today and through gritted, chattering teeth I will remind myself that today is a gift. It's harder to believe but I have chosen to insist on believing it. When that last shoe drops and getting out of bed seems pointless, my song becomes a prayer: "Oh Lord, my God, when I in awesome wonder, consider all the works thy hands have made...."

Each and every day is a gift.

No Daffodils Yet

It's winter today all over again as temperatures dropped yesterday and the rain turned into snow. Lots of snow and still snowing lightly. Unlike in December, my family is not overjoyed but we also know this is short lived.

With Good Friday and Easter Sunday approaching, I have a sense of anticipation that seems to go hand in hand with this year's longing for Spring. I am waiting differently than in previous years: patiently, daily, and somewhat cynically. Cynical of the impatience of others. It's unfair of me and I know it. I do not doubt that Spring will come as I know that Christ has risen, he has risen indeed. Others know this too and have not lost the excitement in that knowledge. My very bones wait for warmth and sun. It seems deeper than excitement.



*While you wait with me, perhaps you'd like to try out one of my Easter traditions? Paska is a sweet bread that harks back to Eastern Europe and my own Mennonite tradition. Here's a recipe similar to mine.