Since the end of spring break, our weather had been a pretty convincing reprisal of winter – cold, wind, snow, and sleet. You name it. We’ve had it. Longer days are the only evidence that this is late March and not February. Today’s post from a year ago is a reminder that spring is coming and that we’re not the only critters looking forward to it’s arrival.
Crawdad Worship
Thankfully, a few days of warm weather made short work of our snow cover earlier this month. As the snow piles shrank, huge puddles formed around storm sewers. Many of them were plugged with debris carried by the flowing water.
All that water made me wish for duck feet or a canoe during my morning walks. But I wasn’t the only critter trying to keep my feet dry while winter gave way to spring. One Sunday morning, when I skirted a storm sewer puddle, a stubby chunk of bark beside the puddle waved at me. I blinked, then bent to examine the talented bit of driftwood.
It wasn’t driftwood. It was a crawdad, with vicious claws clacking and slender antenna quivering in the sunshine. I pulled out my camera and took picture after picture of this first confirmation that spring was here to stay. When Crawdaddy curved his bony back and stretched toward the morning light, looking positively pentecostal, I wanted to raise my arms and dance along with my newfound friend.
I didn’t because worry pinned my hands at my sides. What if someone saw me dancing with a crawdad, my warm weather antenna quivering, my mind temporarily unhinged by the promise of spring? My respectable reputation would be tarnished, and that just wouldn’t do.
But now, whenever the sun warms my back or streams in my kitchen window or dissolves another snowbank, I think about my could-have-been dance partner. I wonder when the pure delight of worshipping the Creator of spring be more important to me than the impression I make upon others? When will the presence of the Son be my perfect satisfaction?
I picture Crawdaddy, his arms raised, his threadlike antenna quivering. He’s worshipping his sun with abandon. Why am I afraid to let go and freely worship mine?
