It’s almost the end of April, and I am just now writing about the calendar. I think by now, you all realize that I often run behind on these projects.  This month I have two excuses. You can be the judge if they are worthy.

The first reason is that there is no real story behind this image. It’s a simple photo I took in my own garden last year at this time. 

The second is because the photo is relatively self-explanatory. Springtime, flowers, new life, beauty, and color after a long winter. Because I know you know this already, it makes it difficult to write about. 

What you might not know is that this time of year is extremely difficult for me, as I believe it is for many. Everyone seems to grieve differently. Some people will grieve all at once, and others a little at a time. I think I am the latter.  This time of year brings up many anniversaries. It starts in February, which is pretty much about the time I am feeling cooped up and ready to be outside in the warm rays of summer: the death of a loved one who suffered a sudden heart attack on Super Bowl Sunday, followed by my Father’s birthday and anniversary of his death, followed by the death of our beloved family dog Max, followed by the anniversary of my Father-in-law who was a great strength in our family. Mixed in there is Easter, which is both joyous and heartbreaking. 

This pop of purple brings much joy to a crippled heart. It is a reminder that death, tragic as it is and grief somber as it is, can also bring about much beauty in the soul because much loss puts into perspective many blessings that still remain. A heart filled with gratitude makes a loving person and a desire to live life to its fullest. 


 The crocuses also remind me that just because something or someone has passed away and is seemingly gone to the senses doesn’t mean that they are no longer living. If the soul is of the same design as the rest of creation, then the hope of resurrection is certainly a possible escape from dark thoughts at the very least and actual ease of emotional suffering at the very best. Perhaps that’s the gift of these flowers and all of springtime. You think that they have died, and I suppose, on some level, that is true. But in the spring, when the sun penetrates the ground, and the bulbs have a little jig with the soil, they rise again, bringing much hope into a grieving world. Thanks for reading! 💜💜