Cherry Blossoms

I saw them today. The first ones of the year. They were not perfect or full yet but still they were there. They were only on one side of the tree, one of those valley trees, trimmed through the middle to make way for power lines. I do not know if the other half of the tree was still asleep or dead. But in that moment, on this morning it did not matter.

Those early, young cherry blossoms, so delicately pink, immediately filled me with an overwhelming sense of joy and hope.

Winter was coming to an end.
The thaw was here. 
Spring is on its way.

It has been a full year since the blossoms made an appearance and oh, what a year it has been. But I was reminded that they have no knowledge of what has transpired. It is not that they are foolish or even ignorant, in the pejorative sense, it is that they are indifferent. Beautifully and blissfully indifferent, to me, to you, to all that has happened. 

Do not confuse indifference with not caring though. They have a totally different role to fulfill in this world. They are some of the earliest reminders of resurrection and beauty. Their vocation is to remind us that death is not final, that our hope rests in the restoration of all things. 

“I am making all things new!”  

They also carry a message telling us that God is aware of our condition, our suffering, our fears, but God is the God of the universe, of all things made and that there is more in creation than you and I. God can, and does, keep his eye on the sparrow, his hands on the galaxies, and his gaze on us all at once. We are not alone but, also, we are not the only ones. 

As I pulled into my parking space, I held all these thoughts and feelings at once. I was grateful, thankful, humbled, grieved, and joyful all at the same time because even though spring is coming, winter still holds a grip. Restoration is taking place, but the aroma of loss and death remains in the air. 

Then I thought, “This is a lot of weight to place on a delicate cherry blossom on what might yet be a half dead tree.” But then, as I walked past that same tree, I heard a whisper, “It’s alright, I can bear it because I know how it ends.”

A tear formed in my eye and slowly made its way down my cheek. I have never been so grateful for indifference.