Here in Vermont, spring is slowly making it known that she’s on her way, announcing her upcoming arrival with hopping robins and patches of grass where once lay blankets of snow. It’s the time of year when we can simultaneously step in mud and almost slip on the ice in one single stride.
Nature’s soundtrack now includes lively birds singing their odes to spring and snow melting off the roof in steady drips under the warm sun. And although we may see snowfall once or twice again before spring is truly here to stay, the increasingly longer days serve as a reminder: the seasons are changing.
Just the other day I was coming inside from feeding the chickens, mentally scanning the list of “to-do’s” in my head. Turning down the path towards the door, the sun hit my face in a way that made me stop to soak in its warmth. I drew in a deep breath and reveled in the sense of calm that filled my lungs.
It was in that moment of pause when a small speck of green caught my eye. I walked over to the flower garden and marveled at the tiny shoots poking up through the ground. Just the other day, the dirt had been covered in snow.
Here in front of me were little reminders that life had continued down in the darkness of the dirt, resilient to the cold of winter. When all appeared frozen and dead quiet, gentle growth was taking place all season long.
Do we not sometimes find ourselves in similar stretches of darkness?
… times in our life when we feel lonely, isolated, frozen, and empty.
… long periods of waiting.
… moments when we want to give up.
And yet we can trust that we’re not alone in the midst of these difficulties.
In the waiting, God is working.
In the darkness, He is present.
God is faithfully growing, cultivating, nurturing, and providing.
He’s bestowing His Grace and Mercy even in the darkest and coldest corners of our lives.
The last two years of my life have been filled with varying degrees of waiting, heartbreak, and darkness. My husband and I have grieved the devastating loss of three babies — recurrent miscarriages that left us clinging onto God’s goodness and comfort like never before. After our third loss, I was diagnosed with cancer and began navigating all the questions of “what’s next?” and “why?” and “will I be ok?”
I dove into Scripture like a crystal blue lake on a hot summer day.
God’s Word brought life, joy, and hope into my place of darkness.
His Promises spoke love and comfort to my weary heart.
God reminded me that it doesn’t matter where I go or what I’m going through — He will always be there.
No place is too dark or too cold for Him.
No place is too burdensome and painful for Him to join me.
God is present everywhere and always with me.
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
I I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
If I settle on the far side of the sea,
Even there your hand will guide me,
Your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
And the light become night around me,”
Even the darkness will not be dark to you;
The night will shine like the day,
For darkness is as light to you.
— Psalm 139: 7-12
How often have I uttered my own version of the words, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me.” In other words, surely the weight of my situation, the pain I’m experiencing, the darkness of my reality will hide me from God. Surely it is all too much for Him.
In desparate times I sometimes see myself as the flower bulbs planted in autumn. For months they lay hidden in the ground, consumed by darkness — out of sight, out of mind. Out of His sight, out of His mind.
And yet David’s Psalm so beautifully proclaims the powerful light and presences of God. Not even the darkness can hide us from Him. It doesn’t matter where we go or what we’re going through, He is there. And not only is He present, but He is leading us and holding us in His hands.