Spring Will Come Again

The view of our garden out the kitchen window of the "little" house we lived in when we first moved to M-ville. Taken in the spring

There was just something about this spring that filled us so full of life and hope.  We spent long days in the garden; working the soil, planting seeds, getting dirty, laughing together as a family. Our team was large and we enjoyed them. Grass and weeds abounded. Our yard was full and the surrounding mountains were green with wildflowers.  Work was good, family was even better.  Life was great. 

Our yard, full of grass and weeds in the spring. We enjoyed it immensely.

We left for the capital for a quick week of meetings but didn’t end up returning to M-ville for 6 weeks. On our surprise trip back to the States for my Grandfather’s funeral, we had the joy of seeing family and friends and we had a wonderful time, but we returned here tired. It was a good tired – sapped of energy by trying to cram every second with memories and family. But still, we were tired. 

As we flew back into M-ville, the change was stark. The lush hills that we had admired as we flew out 6 weeks prior were now brown. Fields that had been sprouting were now being harvested.  The cool spring air did not greet us as we stepped off the plane.  We were taken hostage by the stifling heat of summer. 

Having left as part of a team of 20 (4 families, a couple and 2 singles) we returned only to a family of 4 (the couple and single would return eventually). It felt quiet and bare in many ways. 

The days that had been spent outside were forcibly replaced with indoor activities. It was too hot to be out. Early in the morning or in the evening we would go marvel at the garden (that had grown crazy and beautiful while we were gone) but we didn’t do much work in it…it was simply too miserable.

I can't help but love this little corner of Heaven.

One morning while walking through the garden and admiring the flowers, I found myself grieving our place in life. 

We had left so much beauty and returned to so little.

Families were gone.

Our team had changed.

The land was desolate.

Security was tense.

More transitions were on the horizon.

We were tired.

I did one of those “inward shoutings’ at God. You know the kind, where the words don’t leave your mouth, but in your heart you are screaming out, “WHY???”

And deep in my heart the reply came, sure and simple.

“Spring will come again.”

I have pondered those words for months now and they seem to have become the anthem of our life. 

So much is so far from what we had hoped.

 

We came full of promise and hope. Each day we are broken and deeply humbled.

 

We came to a team bursting with families and kids, so excited to raise our son in this place alongside these people. Now we are the only family that remains in this place.

We came excited to work alongside friends and enjoy life here with people we enjoyed.  Some of those dearest to us will no longer live life with us in this place.

We face uncertainty due to security and changes and life…and it is hard to live in the moment and embrace the now when the sands could shift at the drop of a hat.

We so desperately long for Life and Hope to invade this place, but look at the darkness around us and wonder how it will ever happen.

We long for change, only to be met with stubbornness and opposition.

We cry out to the Father for direction, only to hear Him say quietly, ‘wait’.

In the midst of these challenges, every morning I am greeted with the sight of our garden out my window and I am reminded of the promise that spring will come again.

The seasons are changing once again. I couldn’t hold back the tears as the last family drove away this morning. These…our dear friends and a vital part of our community set off on another adventure, leaving us alone…and feeling very vulnerable, to be honest.  The hot air of summer has been replaced with the crispness of fall. Flowers have faded in the autumn light and this morning kAkA, his kids, Little t and I cleaned out the garden. The ground looks barren and dry.  A stark reminder of the world around us: thirsty and broken. Leaves drift lazily towards the ground on the crisp breeze, just like our high hopes for the ideal situation here in M-ville.

I am no stranger to the seasons and maybe that is why I have not completely embraced this new season of life. I can already tell that it will be one of quietness and relative loneliness. We feel Dad calling us to ‘dig in’, to be faithful in this place. And more importantly, to be faithful to His work in us.  We have so much to learn before we can truly give. We have so much soil in our own hearts that needs to be worked and weeded and cleaned up before He can truly invade. I am getting there.

But every morning the reminder is still there. 

Spring will come again.

We pray with fervent hope and longing for His Spirit to move in our lives and in this land. While we wait, we will be faithful – longing for the day when new ground will be broken, seeds will be planted and fruit will come. 

In the barrenness of winter, we cling to the hope that He will bring Spring to this place.