When the magic begin

When the magic begin
The sun shines into the cold, bright air and little white clouds float through it effortlessly.

The birds are singing a song again, and I’m wondering which warm spot they camped out at this winter.

I know they didn’t come home because they wanted to encourage me to hang in there, to prove that spring and summer are on their way back.

They came to build little nests in hedges and trees and bushes, to make everything ready for their arrival of their babies.

Either way, I’m glad they came.

The song they sing while going about their own business lights up my day.

Some of the trees are turning pink, prettier then the prettiest princess dress. The magic is beginning.

Children who are cranky from being cooped up inside go out and play, discovering wondrous things they have seen a thousand times before.

This time, more than any other time before this, it’s new and special and utterly delightful.

In a different realm and also very much here, is the Lord of All. The Lord of the mountains we try to climb, the oceans we can’t fathom. The Lord of spring and forget-me-nots and the babies that are born. The Lord of the Spring that has everlasting life.

2000 years ago He died because we keep doing things that inevitably separate us from His holiness. And He rose, because He is God and He is very much the boss of death, and went to prepare a place for us so we can come to the home we were always meant to have.

He never forgets us.

In the meantime, we wait. Creation is groaning, but not all perfection is lost. Spring always returns. Smiles are still as beautiful as they were on the day He invented them, and I don’t think the trees in paradise looked better then the pink blossoms I drive by as I pick children up from school.

Far, far above us the white loads are still floating by effortlessly.

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