may i love You, Lord,
with the earthen-terribleness of my winters,
as well as i love You,
with the lifted hands of spring.

may my times of wanting,
voluble and roseate, better than summer,
between Your unchangeable hands.

these times,
in and out of spring.

my i rehearse this truth well,
within my wondering heart-

that, to everything,
there is a season-
a purpose
for every going’s on
under heaven.

help me to remember,
those in deeper winter than i,
as i lift,
iced over  – thawing yet,
swaths of praise.

let me remember, Savior,
there was a season, and a time,
for Your cross,
Your deep winter, that gave birth to praise.

sorrow, even Your sorrow-
endures for a night,
but joy, redolent, resounding of You-
must dawn with the morning.

may i continually,
lay to heart,
Your own words to me:

the hairs of my head,

and You cherish, the weeping,
of sextillions of sparrows…



2 Replies to “Wintering”

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