I drop my husband off every weekday morning at the train so that he can ride to work. Many, many others do the same, and there are many people gathered on the platform waiting for the train to arrive. At certain times there are hundreds of people lined up. During the winter, particularly on the bleaker days, they seemed like crows hovering on a branch, all dressed in black, their somberness and the weather's dreariness united. On any given morning, it could seem like the opening of a horror movie, with ominous music playing in the background.
A funny thing happens as the weather changes. People change too. There is very little black, but the entire commuter crowd is alive with colors. Their bleak body language may not
have changed, nor their half-wakefulness, nor their routine resenting of the commute, but they are no longer dark clarion crows waiting for a meal, but rather, petals of hope dotting the platform. They have changed their colors, if not their hearts.
Today, I am reminded that hope lies in the activity of hope itself. As I am cheered by the exterior of people I do not know, my willingness to smile and believe in the goodness of others actually brings it to reality. The activity of belief, changing clothes for the seasons, in some ways, make the season possible, makes hope and faith possible. The acting in faith, make what we pray for possible.
Today, I want to act like it is spring, like all that I have been waiting for is coming true. I am going to change the colors of my platform, from somber to light and know that in the act of believing, God is breaking forth with color and promise. I pray that we can all know God's color and promise breaking forth in our lives today. Today, may we delight in the the colors of the season, knowing God is doing a new thing in us, and in our world.