Spring is coming. The air is damp and fresh and the sky is fickle and confused. Bright morning skies splashed with color usher in afternoon monochromatic clouds hanging low over the horizon. Birds flex winter wings and sing to the changes carried by the wind. 

 It’s a restless, uncertain time. But it comes back every year. And you wonder how the earth can keep making endless rotations when your world is hurtling far away from gravity’s steady pull? How can anything germinate when things aren’t the same this spring and never will be again? 

 I read a quote that said, “One of the hardest decisions you’ll ever have to make is knowing when to keep trying or walk away.” No. That’s all wrong. What if you’ve tried to hang on until you’re bleeding underneath your fingernails? What if the edge of the cliff keeps crumbling a little more every day? What if the chasm underneath is ready to catch you through no fault of your own? What if you’ve been given no choice? 

 What if peace lies in surrender, but you’re not sure you even can. What, God? Give this up? Never! 

The seeds are lying dormant in a dusty grave. They were planted with such hope, but they hold the memories of frost and cold. This hour, before fingers of color reach over the horizon, is the darkest hour yet. Will the fields ever turn green, the light ever last longer? Will spring ever arrive? 

 It’s so hard to let go of the edge. What if you never stop falling, caught in an eternal nightmare of flashing scenery and silent screams?

 Sometimes you can’t take a deep breath because you’re afraid you’ll break. Sometimes you can’t close your eyes because you’re scared of opening them. This is the darkest hour before dawn. 

 The days grow longer, and soft breezes stir the dirt. Life returns to broken, hardened seeds in a series of tiny miracles. Light promises June flowers and whispering branches and immovable blessings. Sometimes it takes awhile for the earth to warm and the seedlings to sprout. But they will. It’s only a matter of time. 

 When you let go, trust the One who catches the sparrows. He won’t let you fall. 

 Watch the green creep up the hillsides. Watch the light grow bigger and brighter.

Wait for the miracle.