Buds

The rain comes down from the sky. Not hard, but constant, as if it will never cease. The cascade pounds down, covering every inch of the ground. The much needed water is sucked up into the earth, absorbed liked a sponge under a running faucet. The sponge fills until it can fill no more. The water runs off the earth and down, collecting in a puddle. Saturated... wet...heavy. The tree's brown bark is so wet it appears black. The branches that had once been stripped naked by winter reach up to the sky, pleading for the clouds to open and for the sun to appear. At the tips of each branch, there is a tiny little green bud, pushing its way out... for life... for growth... for Spring. The colorful buds shout out while the rest of the earth is silent... they remind us...

The buds remind us that growth will come in the darkness of storms. They remind us that we should have hope, even when we feel as if the downpour will never stop. They remind us that beauty lies within everything and everyone on God's great Earth... sometimes we just have to look for it.