We had a wet winter here in Charlotte. My grass is already a rich, vibrant green, my roses are already coming to life, and the weeping willow we planted in the backyard two summers ago is already stretching its limbs toward the skies after its months-long slumber. Yesterday, we were graced with clear blue skies and temperatures in the mid-70s here in North Carolina. Not even March Madness could keep me, a self-described college basketball nut, indoors.
More than just a physical renewal, spring inspires a spiritual sort of rebirth. As I ran laps around the pond in our neighborhood yesterday morning, my sense of ‘believe’ was stronger than it has been in a long, long time.
Mom, Dad, and Taylor escaped to Charleston for a quick renewal of their own during the middle of T’s spring break this past week. On Friday, what was supposed to be an afternoon departure turned into a walk along the city’s waterfront park and famous Battery that stretched into the early evening hours. There, an 11-year-old girl going through an unimaginable illness and two parents going through an unimaginable pain found solace in the sunshine, the breeze and the sound of gentle waves as they lapped up against the walls of the Battery.