SPRING COMES LATE

Feeling a little dispirited one day, I took a hike in the Rocky Mountains of southern Alberta. I was not very hopeful about my progress towards perfection, and my weaknesses lay heavy in my heart. It was late spring in the valley. The flowers were out, the trees full of leaves, and warm breezes were blowing. The higher I climbed, the less green I saw. Snow lay in patches on the trail. After a few hours of climbing, I saw very few signs of spring. All around it was still cold, still winter.

I sat down on a rock to rest and began to ponder and pray. I noticed a little bush in front of me; it had tiny green buds on it—just the promise of spring. As I stared at it, the little plant seemed to whisper these words, “In the highest mountains, spring comes late.” I wondered what these words meant until I had studied the green buds long enough to realize that our lives can be much like that little bush.

We’ll never be content with the valley and the spring that comes early at the foot of the mountain. We want the peaks. On the celestial mountaintop, spring comes late, but our lives will show green buds that promise the eternal spring that will one day come if we keep hope alive.

(From Hope, an Anchor to the Soul by S. Michael Wilcox, page 46)