My life has been awfully complicated lately.
I don't say that in a purposefully vague or dramatically self-pitying way.
I mean to say that there's a lot of challenging stuff going on in the lives of my family and friends. These are not my stories to share, but still they touch my heart and flood me with confusion, compassion and pain.
These are times when it's easy to feel discouraged. Depressed. Even tempted to despair.
My mind was swimming with these downhearted thoughts as I drove home today. Emotionally drained, I pulled into my neighborhood and cruised by my own front yard.
In the grey light of yet another rainy February afternoon, a little sparkle of light caught my eye.
Immediately I knew what it was.
The first blossom of spring.
Glistening with raindrops, perfect and pure.
Pale and pristine against the rough bark and dark soil from whence it sprang.
My patience for the present and hope for the future were instantly restored.
All because of one white crocus.
* * * * *
Other stories of hope, offered from me to you:
November Rose
White And Clean
White And Clean
* * * * *
For more stories about late winter and early spring, try these:
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