Dandelion Assist

It's not spring. Yet.

Which made my discovery this past week of a dandelion growing in my front yard even more surprising. It's a brave little dandelion, to decide to come up and face the cold and snow; brave to bloom when all the other flowers are still huddled down and waiting for the winter winds to blow their last.

A long time ago on these pages, I wrote that my faith is a dandelion. It's still true. My faith turns up when it's not expected. It braves the cold of winter and shows up anyways. It dismisses the scorn of those who look down on it because it does not follow the proper guidelines and pops up all bright and cheerful and raggedy around the edges.

My faith has been helping me absorb the news that yet one more friend has lost her battle with cancer. That makes four this month.

Somehow, this month, my mind hasn't gone down the mental path of "If it's happened to them, that must mean it'll happen to me, and I'm going to be next." Rather, the lessons I learned walking with myself and Kate and Libby on our respective cancer journeys resound. (I'm pretty sure some of the credit for my strength goes to the foolishly brave little flower on my lawn.)

Despite and because of my tears, I've been remembering to live and love the days I have been given, always with an eye out for the margarita truck that could come by any day. I've reveled in the returning light, smiled at the cheeky robins on their journey north. I've stopped and listened to the morning song of the birds as they proclaim I should wake for another day. been thankful for the evening light outside. (It's no longer dark already at five!!!)

And today, I am rejoicing with a friend whose husband underwent a successful kidney transplant earlier this week. (And sending prayers of thanks to his sister who donated one of her kidneys in the hope she will be giving him more good days of life; prayers of gratitude for the steady hands of their surgeons.)

Death and second chances and winter and spring all rolled up together this week, serving to remind me the cycle of life continues. The cycle is not mine to control, rather, it is my privilege and duty to simply bear witness to the turning of the seasons. To notice and to wonder and to cry and to laugh and to thank the One Who Is for the beauty which can be found in all of the days if I but remember to look.

Think Spring!!!