Spring

Light after darkness, gain after loss,

Strength after suffering, crown after cross.

Sweet after bitter, song after sigh,

Home after wandering, praise after cry.

Sheaves after sowing, sun after rain,

Sight after mystery, peace after pain.

Joy after sorrow, calm after blast,

Rest after weariness, sweet rest at last.

Near after distant, gleam after gloom,

Love after loneliness, life after tomb.

After long agony, rapture of bliss!

Right was the pathway leading to this!

Sometimes it seems that the most momentous occasions pass by the most quietly.  Anyone who has suffered tragedy knows the strange monotony of the next day.  One's world can crash down and yet rarely, in our culture, does time stop for the sufferer.  That's why I have often thought it a fitting, albeit ironic, commentary on our modern culture the understated celebration we have of spring.  After the hearty thanks of the harvest, the joyous bustle of Christmas, yet before the long enjoyment of summer with it's enticing vacations and trips; Spring slips up on us gently and the blooms fade sometimes before we noticed that winter is gone. Yet right in the middle of spring is the Day of the Lord.  Easter Morn, the greatest victory of all time.  The victory over death.  There is nothing more universal than death, and nothing brighter with hope and faith than the assurance of immortality.
Maybe it's our disconnect with the land, our seasons are measured more on paper and hands of a clock then by the length and warmth of days.  Gone is the need to know the signs for planting.  We notice the pastel colors of spring only in passing from the shelter of our car, or home, or the lucky office with a view. Yet, inevitably we all feel a slight relief, an easing of the gloom of cloudy days and brown and gray.   
It's been a long winter. Winter is a time to be hearty.  To rely on stored strength to face the bitterness with gritty determination.
Yet spring, the time of the greatest victory known to mankind requires softness and the strength of fragility.

No, I don't think we modern Americans are that out of touch with our Arcadian rhythm.  I think we just hold our budding spring close.  We have weathered too many winters to fall recklessly into Spring. We know the cost for the kaleidescope of color.  Even those who no longer recognize with their minds that scarlet blood is the price for interruption of winter white, the price of new life, still have in their souls a reverence for the giver of life. 
So while I mourn a bit for the loss of ritual that Lent and Ash Wednesday gave Christianity to prepare for the victory of Easter, I recognize that none are immune to winter, the lent of nature.  And as this spring unfolds in my heart I slowly hope that winter is over. Now is the time to put away death and begin a new life in Christ.
“Let the mountains shout for joy, and all ye valleys cry aloud; and all ye seas and dry lands tell the wonders of your Eternal King! And ye rivers, and brooks, and rills, flow down with gladness. Let the woods and all the trees of the field praise the Lord; and ye solid rocks weep for joy! And let the sun, moon, and the morning stars sing together, and let all the sons of God shout for joy! And let the eternal creations declare his name forever and ever! And again I say, how glorious is the voice we hear from heaven, proclaiming in our ears, glory, and salvation, and honor, and immortality, and eternal life; kingdoms, principalities, and powers!” (D&C 128:23).
 And let me do it too.