Something happens in March. The world shows signs of turning, but it struggles. Mild and sunny one day, rainy and harsh the next. Black umbrellas lined up, waiting for a train, and the world seems on the brink of something, but it could go several ways. The sun could break through, with Alleluias on the wind, or the dark wet could entrap us all, with dark bass notes drawing us into a horror movie scene. It is March and Holy week and the world is turning, and when life turns, there is struggle both evident and hidden. It is going to rain today until every drop of water is wrung out. Some one will cry today until every tear is cried out. The world is turning and we humans stand on the brink of terror and rejoicing, wondering how we get through.
On days like today, I am reminded where love waits. Love waits in the shadows, in the recesses of our hearts, even when we thought it was all gone. We humans think that love can be used up, but it can't. Love sometimes needs to crawl under the covers and rest, just like we do - but it comes back as the world turns and as we turn our faces up to find the sun. Our Creator abides with us in the underground darkness, in the recesses of tombs, undercover, in the shadows, while rebuilding our hearts and our capacity. I think it's going to rain today - I know it will. But I also know that this darkness and wet cold moment is feeding and strengthening growth. Preparing each of us for the abundant turning, for love breaking forth, for the coming of new life even in the midst of grief and isolation.