Spring in the Southeast arrives earlier than springtime in the Northeast. Here in Carolina we are blessed to have beautiful, fragrant camellias that begin blooming in December, so we are never without colorful flowers. Here the windy month is February, rather March as it is in New Jersey where I grew up. March is our rainy month, and when the cold, gray days descend upon us, I know it won’t be long before fragrant jasmine, purple wisteria and white and pink dogwoods blanket the countryside. I look out my front door and thrill at the sight of delicate white dogwood lining the street as far I can see.

On a recent March day that dawned damp and overcast I awakened joyously, confident the day would be wonderful. It wasn’t long before the sun appeared, brilliant and warm. I stretched exuberantly breathing in the fresh morning air. Outside my window bright pink azaleas, their blooms as large as saucers, reached to meet the sun. A cacophony of birdsong greeted me, each species adding it’s own dissonant note to the hubbub. I bounded from my bed, happy to be alive with so much beauty to experience and enjoy. This is the good life. My appreciation of God’s gifts seems to have grown each day since my salvation. How did I ever live without the knowledge of His love that I now have?

My thoughts go back to a gray February day in New Jersey when it seemed as if there would be no tomorrow. I was returning from the divorce/custody proceeding that terminated my 10-year marriage to the man I had loved since I was seventeen. I replay in my mind the cold, impersonal way he looked at me as we sat on opposite sides of the courtroom awaiting the judge’s decision.

There was a knock of the gavel, and the judge began. “It is clear that the husband no longer wishes to continue in this marriage,” he said, “so consequently I will grant the divorce. Since the children are in school and have a nice home where their grandmother cares for them and their father provides well for them, I will retain them in his custody.” The words hung in the air for moment, then ricocheted off my brain, piercing by heart. I felt as though this would be the end of me.

Addressing me the judge continued. “You are young, intelligent, and beautiful, and I am sure you will be able to start a new life with someone who will love and cherish you. I understand that you are deeply involved in church, so I will grant weekend visitation for you so that you can take the children with you to ensure their spiritual training. Their father can provide for their physical needs while you supply a mother’s love and spiritual training that you are so capable of giving.”

The bus sped along the Turnpike taking me back to an empty house. I looked out the window at the bare, barren winter trees thinking how much like me they were. But then I noticed the swelling knobs on their branches that would soon be buds, followed by fragrant blossoms. It was the portent of spring. Gradually my spirits lifted and I felt God’s faithfulness as tangible as the tiny buds. Spring would soon be coming and life would go on.

Fast forward to a February day in Carolina about 37-years later. The sun is shining warm and brilliant as I look out

the window of my lovely home. I am surrounded by beauty and love. The buds I see now are on the dogwood trees lining the streets of my neighborhood. The picture is as beautiful as a fairy tale scene. I move through the house, my heart warmed by the clutter of a family. Paul’s work shoes are by the side door; my daughter’s devotional book beside her place at the table. My grandson’s yoyo sits on a shelf in the bookcase; the family bible is on the buffet soon to be fetched for mealtime devotions.

And I am happy, so happy that I heeded a kind judge’s advice that sent me looking for love in the right place. Here, I am a Christian woman with a Christian husband and all my heart’s desires met. Everything that was lost has been replaced. In a few weeks we will celebrate our 35 th wedding anniversary. My children are grown and living their lives. My grandson is the delight of my life. As I write, a song plays over and over in my heart—an old blues song that says, I’m gonna love you/ Like nobody’s loved you/Come rain or come shine…and God, through Jesus, is singing it to me!

Thank you Lord.

Thank you Lord is all I can say
For sending your spring
To a heart cold and gray
For the love that you give
For the joy that is mine
Knowing how much you love me
Come rain or come shine

© 2007 Rosemary Sinclair