Naked Feet

Spring is here, and yesterday found us hosting our 1st cook-out of the season, complete with hummus & aunties & uncles aplenty. I've been enjoying the freedom the season brings by wearing my flip-flops constantly, hence Miss K's question on Friday: "Mommy, why are your feet naked?"

Here are some pics of our adorable little fruit trees in the backyard (a red apple, an apricot, a golden delicious apple, and a peach):

Beautiful, no? Honey found them at Calloway's at the end of last summer for $5 each, so I was skeptical that they would survive...but survive they did, and now they are just so leafy. Makes me smile every time I see them! So our backyard was happy to host our party, complete with a rousing game of croquet for all the johnnies (honey, J, and N all graduated from St. John's College; a big event there every year is the annual croquet match versus the Naval Academy, so for them, croquet is quite exciting...I haven't figured it out yet, but maybe this will be the year?).

So we're all running around here enjoying springtime with our naked feet. Quite frankly, I wish I could say my soul was blooming with all the trees in the backyard, but it's not...it's feeling a bit naked itself, kinda stripped & worn out, like it's nearing the end of autumn rather than the beginning of spring. Last night I described it to Sha as "feeling kind of funky." But I know that that's the nature of things - our trees have to look dead in order to bloom again, and sometimes there are just dry seasons for our souls. I'm thankful that this doesn't mean that the Lord is any less faithful or in control, but just reflects my wishy-washiness instead. Thank you, Father, for the new life of spring, and the reminders all around that You're in the resurrection business.