Darkness and Light and Stuff

The blooming of my redbud tree is, for me, a personal harbinger of Spring. Always, when I see the blooms, I am reminded of better days to come, and the idea of moving into light and leaving darkness behind. It is a weak metaphor because we can't forever and completely leave the darkness behind. It is in the darkness that the seeds germinate. It is in the night that we rest and recover.

The tree was planted in between two strong and large live oaks. She has to fight not to be consumed by the darkness, and to grow toward the light. The heaviest concentration of blooms is above my head, where the branches have broken through the crowded darkness of the oak limbs.

The blossoms speak to me of tenacity, and courage, and persistence. They remind me to hang in there, to keep on growing.

It's often not easy to break through darkness, or the desire to give up and quit, but I choose to believe there is always hope, and light.

No big lesson here, just a gentle reminder for me.

My husband is doing relatively well with his recovery.

My sister will be needing chemo and possibly radiation.

My nephew is getting married next weekend. I will be acting as photographer. Gulp.

My second nephew and his wife are due to have a baby in March.

I played a singles tennis match today, my first ever, in league play. I'd missed last week and felt like I needed to be there this week. I lost both sets. Badly. But the other woman was a gracious opponent and I'm grateful for that. I plan to do better next weekend.

Good times, hard times, I'm grateful for the light. And occasionally, also for the dark.