The mysteries of the onset of spring have always evaded me. Having grown up in tropical (or sub-tropical) Natal, and despite the gynecological form of that province's very name (having been "discovered" on Christmas Day way back by an avid Portuguese chappy in a boat), one could never really be sure there of the changes in seasons.
Roll on Rustenburg. Our life there, a brief sojourn, did produce some natal activity, both in the birth of our second son (beloved by name and in practice) and in the curious ability to actually tell that the seasons were turning. When it came to noticing Spring, I refer primarily to a very small stick-like fig tree that dominated the back lawn (there were no other bushes or the like in the area) - a tree which like in Jonah's account was a doubtful starter in terms of shade provision (with or without worms) as it was simply too tiny and scrawny.
The good thing about this tree? Not having Google calendars (or Outlook equivalents that mattered) and even when you couldn't find a paper calendar (one with flowers, scenery, or any other dodgy images) you could check out the fig tree around September 1. With seasonal certainly the little plant produced a green leaf. One was enough to know that it was time. And of course this hopeful specimen reminded me of Habbakuk 3:17-18. And boy did I need that assurance.
I still do of course. The Spring has not been that obvious. It may well have sprung at some point in the last couple of weeks. Any exciting shoot would be unnoticed as we have endured buckets and buckets of rain.
The passage in the above-mentioned somewhat unpronounceable Bible passage has its writer declare his commitment to rejoice in the LORD - a word which in Afrikaans ( a Dutch dialect of the country of my birth) is jubel, but in Dutch itself comes out as van vreugde opspringen. I love it. Neat. The springy nature of such rejoicing reminds me of my dear mother who when speaking of more buxom creatures of the female gender had this curious yet kind descriptive saying when referring to such largely endowed ladies: "more bounce to the ounce". You get the picture.
Joy requires some energetic expansiveness in spirit and temperament. And my nickname at school: Springer of course. I wonder if my curious scholarly colleagues remember that. Did I bounce or jump for joy? Too many decades have gone by to remember that with integrity.
Alas I confess that I have lost some of that energy. Yes the demise of youth, you mutter politely. The joy I am finding is a much richer thing. When the fig trees in my life take a LONG LONG time to blossom, and when the produce of the olive fails, and our fields seem barren - yet we still rejoice in the Lord. And the verse which follows in Habbakuk 3 is even more energizing: The Sovereign LORD is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights.
So there it is then. Spring Sprung. Yes of course as we age our springs, like those in an old chair, can go haywire. But it's what's in the heart that really matters.
So while the nation seems to go nuts over its current issues (most of which are strangely drawn out of Parliament's ballot box of chance) - and the world is in its present turmoil of rage, down here in the south on the edge of the earth Spring has sprung in more ways than one. And its rich tapestries are being painted in all the facets of our spiritual and emotional journey.
I trust that you find some energy from within too - perhaps in your travels of heart and mind you can also explore this rich joy from our most delightful Saviour and God. For what is within that generates real life comes from without. We are not abandoned.
