I sit here looking at the blank screen. I want to write something....feel that need to write, but I have nothing to really say. I know that if I retell one of those adventures of yesteryear in the great wide world--the young days of Sweet T--that is going to get way more involved than I intend to be today. If I tell you it fully, and accurately that is. I am not like some of those bloggers who spend a lot of time revising, and thinking, and planning a blog post. I give you my raw thoughts--my impulse...my brain. At least what/who my brain is when I am in front of a computer. In other situations my brain my respond differently. If you knew me only through my blog, then there is a very good chance that you could not pick me out of a crowd. You think you know me because you read this blog.....
Well, and so you do.
The redbuds are beautiful this year. They are already blooming. They are so intense, and so purplish pink. You just want to dip your face into a bucket of them, and know if you did that your cravings would finally be satisfied. Maybe all of our deepest desires could be realized in a bucket of redbud blossoms.
No wonder all the world--both pagan and christian celebrate spring. There is such a sense of renewal. A sense of hope. A belief that whatever life holds for you--even in the darkest moments is the knowledge that spring WILL come---and usually most willingly right after the bleakest sense of death. No wonder we celebrate Jesus' resurrection in spring--who couldn't believe in a resurrected savior in a moment of blissful spring? A moment when the earth itself attests to a resurrection from death to life?
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