“for behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth,
the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.” –Song of Solomon 2:11-12 ESV
The birds were noisy this morning. And I don’t mean just a little bit. They were loud and raucous and excitable and continuous in the dawn of a new day. From excited little twitters of tinier birds to the staccato notes of others to longer two-toned cries, the whole sky was filled with a symphony of praise and I reveled in it as I walked my little dog around the block.
As I write this in late April, there are still no leaves on the trees here in New Hampshire. The word that best describes our current landscape is drab with splashes of yellow. Yes, the trees are bare, but the forsythia is out in full force and the daffodils are bobbing in the morning breeze. The bright yellows stand out vividly against the drab, and remind me that spring always follows winter. Year after year. Century after century. It’s predictable and steady and reliable in a world that feels very unstable.
Last May, I lost my hearing. It was sudden sensorineural hearing loss that took sound from me. And sudden would be the key word. I went to bed hearing and I woke up practically deaf. No hearing in one ear, and very little hearing in the other. There were no bird songs brightening up my mornings. My world was silent and isolating. I was immediately given prednisone treatments both orally and through injections to my inner ear. This was, to put it mildly, unpleasant. And yet, the desire to hear surpassed the pain of the procedures, and so I endured a painful, silent summer. Eventually, my hearing returned to a 70% word recognition and I was fitted with a hearing aid in the one ear that was able to hear enough to be able to amplify sound.
And so here I am, almost a year later, savoring bird song symphonies as I walk. When you lose something you take for granted and then get it back again, you appreciate it more. Each winter here in New England, we lose green from the trees and much of the blue in the sky as the clouds roll in and the world becomes brown. As unpleasant as that may sound (and I much prefer a winter with snow-covered whiteness blanketing everything in its pristine sheen – we just didn’t get that this winter), it does heighten the joy of spring. Everything seems fresh and new and beautiful again because we missed it for a while.
So this spring, as my new hearing aid lets me hear those glorious trills and twitters from the birds, I am savoring it all in a new and deeper way. Tuned in to the noises and enthralled by the splashes of yellow. Sometimes, you have to lose something for awhile in order to appreciate it more fully. Today, I rejoice “for behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove (sparrows, chickadees, blue jays, cardinals, bluebirds, titmouse, finches, and so many more!) is (are) heard in our land.”
Father, thank You for the rhythms of the seasons and Your steady reminder each year that no matter the instability of the world, You never change. Your faithfulness endures forever, and spring always follows winter. I am so grateful, Lord, for the sounds and sights of spring and the reminder that You renew and restore and I can trust in that. Hallelujah! In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
You are loved,
Sharon
Sweet Selah Ministries
Vision
To inspire a movement away from the belief that “busy is better”
and toward the truth of God’s Word that stillness and knowing
Him matter most—and will be reflected in more effective work and service
Mission
To offer biblical resources and retreats that help women pause (Selah)
and love God more deeply as they know Him more intimately (Sweet)
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