How did they know
it was time to push up through the long-wintered soil?

How did they know
it was the moment to resurrect,
while thick layers of stubborn ice
still pressed the bleak ground flat?

But the tulips knew.

They came, rising strongly,
a day after the ice died.

There’s a hope-filled place in me
that also knows when to rise,
that waits for the last layer of ice
to melt into obscurity.

It is urged by the strong sun
warming my wintered heart.
It is nudged by the Secret One,
calling, calling, calling:
“Arise, my love, and come.”

My heart stirs like dormant tulips
and hope comes dancing forth.

Not unlike the Holy One
kissing the morning sun,
waving a final farewell
to a tomb emptied of its treasure.

by © Joyce Rupp

Prayer

Source of love, rise as the spring in our overwintered hearts. Help us stretch from the dark and nourishing soil to the bright and nurturing sunlight. Help us reach one another. Love us back to life in all its fullness as we blossom and unfold amid days that will always contain beauty and terror alike. No matter what else they may hold, may each day contain impossible, inexorable, blooming love. Amen. –
Rev. Molly House Gordon

Shared by Liz Sorensen Wessel
Tulips by the talented artist by Bobbye Terry