Quiet Ground, Gentle Grace

"March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb" is a 300-year-old proverb predicting that the month begins with stormy, cold weather and ends with mild, gentle, spring-like days. To be more exact, though, Spring doesn't announce itself with a shout, but with the steady, gentle rhythm of things waking up.

Welcome March. And yes, April too.

Writer’s block and a packed schedule are not a great combination, but here we are. It’s the end of my birth month and despite my exhaustion, this season is often associated with renewal. Spring is full of quiet, unobtrusive, and subtle moments of pivotal change.

The Power of the "Quiet Bloom"

As a writer, I confess that I have a penchant for uninterrupted periods of silence—in fact, I view them as rare periods of productivity where my creativity can thrive. I long for the hush of the treeline, punctuated only by the crackling fire, coffee brewing, and the scratching of my pen.

In the winter, everything looks dormant, but springtime proves that stillness isn’t the same as absence. Have you ever considered that the most impactful changes in nature—like a seed cracking open underground—happen in total silence? Significant growth happens in the subterranean soil (a quiet victory) where roots find their depth long before the first leaf reaches for the light.

Softness as Strength

We often associate "impact" with loud, forceful things, but spring is a masterclass in gentle persistence. In fact, spring is the quietest revolution; it wins not by force, but by outlasting the frost. Never mistake volume for impact. The path to greatness is often paved with quiet dignity.

Consider the way a pale green sprout can push through asphalt. It doesn’t use a hammer; it just consistently grows toward the light. Likewise, God knows how to soften the hardest of hearts.

The Color of Grace

Walking through Epcot’s Flower and Garden Festival with my husband recently, I was struck by the glorious displays. It’s the kind of beauty we hope our lives—and our marriages—might mirror. Yet, as a newlywed, I’m quickly learning that this beauty is often forged through trial and error. I fall short more than I’d like to admit, and I’m finding that the grace I want to give is the very same grace I desperately need myself.

Spring starts with muted tones—soft yellows and misty mornings—before the "riot" of summer colors arrives. There is a specific kind of mercy in this light. Easter represents the ultimate "second chance." Just as the sun stays a little longer each day, the presence of God stretches across the dark areas of our lives, bringing color back to places we thought were permanently gray.

Resurrection Life

The greatest shift in human history began in the quiet of a garden and the stillness of a tomb. The "gentle presence" of God works just like that: quietly, beneath the surface, until suddenly everything is new.

It is the quiet grace of the Crucifixion that reminds us that even in the deepest stillness of the tomb, the ground is preparing to produce something miraculous; we only need the patience to let the Grace finish its work.

I have a special love for butterflies—their presence covers my classroom, reminding us that transformation is possible. In the spring, the mourning cloak butterfly is often the first to appear. Because they emerge before flowers bloom, they feed on tree sap from wounds in the bark. Tree sap is often bitter, but for the mourning cloak, it is the energy required for flight. The Crucifixion was bitter, yet sweetness emerged.

The Beauty of the Unfinished

This theme of transformation also pops up in spring DIY projects. My ever-resourceful son, Corbin, recently moved into his first apartment and found a free wooden dining room set that definitely needed some love. How we savored shopping for the stain and sandpaper while imagining that table's hidden beauty!

Much like the raw grain of that wood waiting for its final polish, we often find ourselves in the "sanding" seasons of life—the abrasive, dusty middle where the work is hidden and the waiting feels long. But there is enough grace for that ground too.

It Feels Like Heaven

The increase in daylight feels warmer after the winter, offering a healing shift in the atmosphere. Spring rain showers help wash away the remnants of winter, followed by the smell of fresh, damp soil.

James and I recently experienced 60 mph winds and hail during our Kissimmee getaway, and the new dent on my SUV bears witness. But let’s leave behind the bluster of March for the soft, unstoppable arrival of April.

Be encouraged and recognize that moments of rest are just as infused with God’s presence as the roar. He simply settles—like the dew on the new grass, or the breath in my lungs. Come rest on us…

"Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord; his going out is sure as the dawn; he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth." — Hosea 6:3 (ESV)

Watch & worship

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R8MZbl-GRdY