Spring's glory an unexpected gift

I remember April 1992 as the Spring of pure grace.

We had bought our new house in February, when trees and bushes were bare. Since my thumb is whatever is the polar opposite of green, I had taken no steps to improve the yard. It would stay as undecorated as my last yard, and the one before that.

But as the days lengthened and trees shook out new leaves, surprises popped out. First, shaggy bushes exploded in yellow glory. Forsythia! Then, one by one, other festive residents made their presence known. Buttercups. Tulips. Irises. Azaleas. Day lilies. Peonies. Roses. Every day I walked around the house in amazement, counting my colorful blessings.

Best of all was the huge lilac bush, whose fragrance attracted me as surely as it did the butterflies.

So much of how we find meaning in life relies on the efforts of those who came before us, who planted the insights that bloom into our own understanding. Their wisdom comes to us as unexpected grace. The quote that illuminates. The book that speaks directly to our situation. The Scripture passage that leaps off the page. The piece of music that expresses better than words what is in our heart.

Our job is to tend them and to plant our own bulbs for a future we may not see.