The day the Lord created hope
was probably the same day He created Spring.
This time last month, I was trying to remember why I choose to live in a place where sub-zero temperatures soak through the walls of my house in the winter. Today is why.
Leaf buds on tree branches strike a red contrast against the April blue sky. Crowds of daffodils visit along the curb. I can almost hear their voices. I think they are singing. The sun pushes warmth through the morning chill, promising a shirt sleeve kind of day. What would life be without contrasts?
The elation I feel when I’ve completed a difficult job is enhanced by my memory of the challenges it offered—the hours when I wondered if I’d ever finish it to my satisfaction. My usual solitude is offset by the warmth I feel when I sit among my friends at the cafe and listen to them talk about nothing in particular. Grief is offset by joy; pain by respite; fear by faith; winter by spring.
I’m from the generation who read the words of Kahlil Gibran. When he spoke of joy and sorrow, he said, “The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.” I read that when I was 23. I’ve been reminded of it frequently ever since. Today is another reminder.
(This little drawing is one of the pencil renderings that I tinted in Photoshop.)