Daffodils show a flirty glimpse of lacy yellow petticoat just above the ditch line as I drive along, enticing me to dream of spring's warmth. From still-frozen ground, these first harbingers of spring burst forth, promising an end to winter's darkness and the light of hope. And I am captured by their teasing, though it's winter still.
The tantalizing hope of a brighter season causes us to believe against all odds. Before the jonquil first appears, there is little evidence that growth or life will return. Trees are bereft of leaves or retain just a few brown, lifeless hangers-on. The whole earth appears barren and sad, locked in the fierce grip of dormant cold.
Then, one day, up from the ground comes a tiny green shoot. More appear, and finally a delicate yellow bud tightly closed against the frigid air. They have always been my favorites because they wave a flag announcing the end of winter and the stealthy approach of spring. But, to me, they also represent much more.
They bring memories of flowers "borrowed" from neighbor ladies' yards when I was a child. They remind me of so many bouquets gathered and shared over the years. Their fresh, heavenly scent fills a room with the assurance of a season of renewal. But most of all, their bright color boldly proclaims the promise of resurrection and the triumph of new life - the Gospel in a flower.
As the daffodils fade, may the promise and hope they represent remain.
