The time “springs forward”, the Sunday of spring break for our school kids, and one of our children has the job of feeding some neighbor friends’ dogs.

We live close enough for this child to walk to their house, but since we are all slower to get out of bed this particular morning, I drive her down the road and over the slight hill.

I sit in our van as she fulfills her dog duties, and my body feels at least an hour behind the numbers that the digital clock reads.

My soul feels sluggish, too, and the Lord uses His Word from the Gospel of John to wake my heart. I focus afresh to the details of our Savior’s days on earth; Easter is just around the corner.

As I sit and listen to the audio of this Scripture, I notice a single squirrel in the high branches of a tree at the back of the driveway.

The branches are still barren from winter with no visible signs of spring life.

No green in the trees, and not even a hopeful backdrop of blue, as the gray sky only seems to promise rain.

I watch the timid squirrel, and I feel a strange similarity to it.

We long for the verdant fullness of life (and the hopefulness of signs of life). Yet as we wait for the blooming, our sight is sharpened.

The barrenness brings clarity as to what is really there.

Perhaps the little squirrel is rehearsing the routes, so that when a new season does come – when the branches are lush with green leaves again – he will be far more familiar with where the strongest branches are.

The season of barrenness shows the little squirrel where sure footing is found.

And the same is true for me.

I smile at the bushy-tailed critter, those empty branches, and that backdrop of gray, for I know green is coming again – very soon – accompanied by long days of warm sunshine rays.