The body takes in and releases a long, smooth breath; with this breath, the body is set into motion, turning, stirring from its slumber. It heaves another long sigh as it fights wakefulness, but it is already awake, though its alarm has not yet sounded, and the time is not yet come.
Then its eyes open, at first dreary, as the sleep is wiped away, but quickly those windows to the soul are wide and aware, and all the light of life can be seen in them. With every breath and stirring, its joints and limbs creak as it shakes off the lethargy of hibernation, and as you walk along in the doldrums of your Winter reverie, you look up to the trees and see the first red tips at their fingers, and realize that Spring is coming.
And this Earth is a morning person; early to rise, it blows and rustles with great energy, and its eye, once lidded with the Winter’s pall, shines down with bright rays to drive away the lonely coldness of our grey Winter, replacing it with an extravert's most blinding cheer.
Fitting, that this reminder of awakening should come to you now, sitting in the sunlight on your stone bench by the river, for in a few days, you will join the crowd in the Passion according to Saint Matthew as they cry “Hosanna” and again as they cry “Crucify.”
Fitting, that all the beautiful, lively gifts foreshadowing the Spring should show themselves, even as you fail your simplest fasts of Lent, and impiously hunger after the food and drink you’ve forsworn, instead of fixing your mind to prayer.
Fitting, not because you deserve these gifts which foreshadow the Spring, but because, as Lent enters its darkest days, as you veil your crosses, as you rehearse with the choir and the acolytes, when no Gloria is sung, you have this reminder: brace yourself, christian, Easter, Spring of souls when Christ burst his prison and from three days' sleep in death rose as the sun, is coming.
Still, as another cold front comes past, you will kneel on your aching knees on Good Friday, your fasts again failed, and see the only Light of sinners against the noon sky; that light, though for a time shrouded in Winter’s pall, shall shine again on Easter, all Its fasts kept in perfect piety, with all merit accounted to you.
And as the sun shines brightly down, student, cease your walk, look from the buds on the trees to see that the lilies are springing forth.
~C of A by the G of G