I'm Done Making Excuses for why I'm not Blooming.

This morning I came outside, and it's like overnight; half the trees came to life. They were dormant sticks literally yesterday, and today here they are, transformed into shades of dark and light greens, reds, yellows, whites, and pinks. Just like that. Boom. They are FULL of new growth.

It has been a heavy season full of "no's." It is so easy to get discouraged in the moment, even when everything I know to be true is that life is FULL of good, full of hope, full of beauty. I decided to sit with my good Father and just ask. That was how I found myself praying hard for God to blow us away with a yes. The kind of yes that is so fantastic it's obviously from Him.

As I prayed outside, watching the squirrels play in all this new growth, it hit me. Trees stay dormant during a season when new baby growth would be too vulnerable; to easily harmed. New growth happens when all the elements are in place, when it's safe for those fresh baby leaves and flowers to thrive: In His time.

God makes Himself known in His creation, so we can see and comprehend Him more clearly (Romans 1:20). Maybe we don't always need to feel the pressure to understand or explain why we're dormant. We don't have to have answers and make excuses. In it's season, maybe even overnight, all the little potential that has been growing in the unseen WILL bursts to life. Maybe, just like in nature—that's how God likes to surprise all of His creations. He makes Himself known when things that feel dead suddenly come alive! Growth is a process; transformation is instantaneous.

That's what I'm praying: for our spring to be marvelous and colorful and blow people away with its beauty. I want the echoes of my days to be that God is good! That's how we get to do our part to make Him known.

I love you, Lord. I'll go through this winter with you because I KNOW spring is close. I love that you're an amazing snuggle buddy. I trust You to know when the threat of frost is over, and it's the right time for transformation—any minute. I feel the potential brewing right under the surface.

I wonder if buds start to freak out a little right before their enclosure breaks? Do they feel like the pressure will kill them? Like they can't breathe? When they have outgrown every square millimeter of space—until suddenly it all opens up and the beautiful bloom gets to unfurl. They have been preparing for this moment in the wait.