March Madness

Most people who know me know that I have issues with the month of March.  This all started one March day in our early years of homeschooling.  I remember working with my kids on identifying the parts of speech in a sentence and asking them to underline the nouns.  They stared at me with blank faces as if to say, "Nouns?  NOUNS??  You never told us there were things called nouns!"

Nearly three-quarters of a year of instruction seemed to have evaporated into the cold, dreary March air.  I was utterly dumbfounded.  And then a year later it happened again.  This time, I began to recognize the symptoms and came up with my own diagnosis.  We were all suffering from a bad case of the March Stupids.  We'd been couped up for too long, shoveled too much snow, nursed too many colds, and seen too much gray.  Our brains seemed frozen.  We needed spring, and March was toying with us--giving us a glimpse of snowdrops and crocus and daffodil peaking through the ground, then allowing winter to gather her forces, unleashing her last blast of fury in the form of spring blizzards.

Which we would have to shovel.  By the way.

I know March is toying with me, once again, seducing me with the promise of spring.  I know that winter is lying in wait and will again break my heart before yielding to the boundaries the Creator has set for her.  But spring has always come, every year, in the past.  I expect she will again.  And I will sing and give thanks.

See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone.  Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land.  Song of Songs 2:11,12

179. A text message from a friend that read, “My lilac bush has buds!” because she knows how much I hate March and how much I love lilacs.

180. A picture message of snowdrops blooming sent by another friend—even though I have picture messaging blocked on my phone and never actually got to see the image.

181. Crocus and daffodil poking through the ground.

182. Being able to buy cut daffodils at the local supermarket.

183. Maple syrup buckets=the sap is starting to run.

184. Seeing a student riding a unicycle on his way to class=combining efficiency with whimsy and quirkiness.

185.  Quirkiness.

186. Scrambled eggs with onions, peppers, smoked gouda and wild boar sausage.

187. A quiet, sunny Saturday morning and a drive to one of my favorite hiding places.

188. Indie artist coffee shop music.

189. A chalkboard in the ladies room=an invitation to scribble some graffiti: Praise God from Whom all blessings flow!

190. Military chaplains.

191. An early diagnosis and successful surgery.

192. The privilege of praying for our pastor.

193. His opportunity to plant seeds in a local college classroom.

194. Help that arrives in unexpected ways from unexpected places, and most assuredly, from the loving hand of the Father.