More From Allison Lynn

This past winter was particularly difficult. After years of avoiding it, my husband and I finally contracted COVID-19. Even with our vaccinations, we were completely knocked out by the illness. We spent the entire Christmas season isolated from friends and family. Months of sickness led to lost work and lost income—a complicated downside of being self-employed. As we started to recover, my father-in-law entered the hospital. We didn’t know it at the time, but this was the start of his final months of life.

The dreariness of winter felt like it might just go on forever. Though the calendar moved forward, I barely noticed when the air started to shift. But one day, while walking through my neighborhood, I realized I didn’t need my heavy mittens. February’s icy chill had started to loosen its grip. The days were getting longer and just a little bit brighter. I turned my eyes to the ground and started to hunt through the fading snow for signs of life.

One sunny afternoon, I finally saw tiny tips of green poking through the earth. My snowdrops were starting to grow . . . . The delicate white flowers that had inspired my original Upper Room devotional had returned to inspire for yet another season.

Each year, my humble patch of snowdrops grows a little thicker and spreads a little farther. They’ve started to mingle with my purple crocuses, offering even more color and beauty. I’ve learned that the neighbors on our street watch my garden for their personal first sign of spring. If I happen to be out of town when the first blossoms open, I receive photos and messages proclaiming, “Look at your flowers! Spring is officially here!”

I marvel at the power of a few tiny shoots of green. God uses my small front garden to bring a powerful message of hope and endurance. If these wee bulbs can survive a smothering of snow, maybe we can too.

God puts intimate tidings of promise all around us. Part of our job is simply to look for them, to be aware, to look for signs and wonders, to listen for the “still small voice” (1 Kings 19:12, KJV), to trust in the promise of “seek and you will find” (Matt. 7:7, NIV).

In the garden, as in all things, life moves on. As the snowdrop blossoms fade, the rest of the garden starts to erupt in bountiful glory—even more signs of God’s assurance and abundance!

Even in the depths of our personal winters, God is with us in the ice and snow, whispering promises of hope. Take heart! Winter is but a season. Our faithful God will revive us in spring, and lead us into a glorious summer!