One of the things that I miss about
Nebraska are the Sandhill Cranes. In
late February, early March, the Sandhill Cranes migrate north from their
southern confines, landing in Nebraska for a mid-migration pit stop . . .
thousands of them land along a corridor between Grand Island and Kearney to refuel
for the northern journey. The cranes
were also a symbol of spring for me . . . that and road kill (particularly
skunks and raccoons). When the cranes arrived
Nebraskans could count on two things, one more big snow storm and the arrival
of spring. The arrival of the cranes was
always an annual ritual I loved to witness . . . and, I miss it.
Montana is a long ways off the beaten
path of most Sandhill Cranes . . . but, we do get them in small numbers. In our area they usually show up in pairs and
quite spread out in the area . . . but, as I said, we do get them. And, yes, they are a sign of spring here in
Montana.
Between the darkness of Good Friday
and the light of Easter . . . the Sandhill Cranes have arrived. Could this be a sign from God . . . a
movement of the Holy Spirit . . . as we reach the climax of the season of
Lent? I don’t know, but I do know that
they give me hope . . . lots of hope. As
I said, the cranes have always been a sign of new beginnings . . . such as
spring . . . where all things start over.
Things are slowly turning green, the birds are coming back, the babies
are being born, and the temperatures are slowly rising. Yeah, spring can’t be too far behind the
cranes.
The day between Good Friday and Easter
. . . what some call “Holy Saturday” . . . had always been an awkward time for
those of us who follow Jesus. It has
always been a time when none of us is really sure what we are supposed to
do. Are we supposed to be remorse,
knowing that Jesus was nailed to a cross the night before . . . or, are we
supposed to be anxious and excited since we know the resolution of the story .
. . how Jesus rises from the dead? I don’t
know.
All I do know is that it was a
beautiful day to head out and check out the area . . . to make the most of what
God had bless us with as we waited. It was
a great surprise to stumble upon two Sandhill Cranes strolling along the
lake. A sign of hope . . . a sign of new
beginnings . . . a blessing. I cannot
speak for anyone else, but under the bright Montana sky, between the gloom of
Good Friday and the joy of Easter morning, I found hope in two Sandhill
Cranes. There are new beginnings. Life is good . . . life is good even when the
winter of life lingers on and spring seems so far, far away.
Sometimes the signs of Easter have
nothing to do with the empty tomb or cross on a hill. Sometimes it has to do with a sign . . . the
cranes are back.
No comments:
Post a Comment