Spring insists. No matter the turmoil in the world around us, everywhere I look I see it. Quietly, yet persistently pressing forth, until it bursts from every tree bud, emerges through warm soil, and paints its colors across our landscapes. 

Its whisper of hope seems incongruent with the current state of the world. It reminds me of the feeling you have when someone you care for dies. I remember sitting in a restaurant 14 years ago, eating breakfast, on the morning that my daughter Emma passed away. We needed food, and knew no better way to quickly and efficiently meet this need after leaving the hospital without her. But it felt so unreal sitting there in that restaurant, surrounded by people eating, and talking, and living. My world stood still, and yet, somehow all around me, life still moved on, refusing to be pushed off course by the death of one 7 month old baby girl.

As uncomfortable as it may feel, the fact that life encompasses so many competing truths, does in fact bring me hope. A global pandemic can exist alongside Spring. We can mourn death and illness and also celebrate the Easter resurrection. We can be physically isolated, yet be connected to others in love. We can act with caution and yet not be overwhelmed by fear. 

Let every flower, every new leaf, every moment the sun warms your skin remind you of your own capacity to hold joy and hope and love even in the midst of fear and pain and inconvenience.