Have you ever noticed the first buds appear? Everything looks bleak and then slowly emerge the buds…then one or two courageous buds emerge into flowers before the rest.
I feel like sometimes it takes courage to be the first: the first to see the weather changing, first to see the season changing, first to see hope.
But after a few buds courageously transform themselves, slowly, slowly, the rest join them.
How can we be conveyors of life, or hope and of the changing season?