The temperature in Anchorage this morning is forty-one degrees Fahrenheit. I would wish it to be much warmer considering we are six days into the month of May. Down in the lower forty-eight, the people have been celebrating spring, planting seedlings, tilling the soil for gardens, and are well on their way into the growing season. The soil is frozen in Anchorage. The tillers, unable to cope with the icy humus, lay unused in sheds waiting for the warmth to soften the landscape.
Patience will see me through the frustration of seeing my seedlings reach peak and begin to wilt. A willingness to wait until spring truly arrives will be my comfort as I survey with dismay the frost on the ground in the mornings, or search in vain for the first shoots of vegetation.
God will lay hand to our part of the world when it is most fit to do so, and I will be patient. I will be grateful. I am powerless today, but soon, with His help, I will be granted the power to plant, to sow and to reap.
Amen
