Dear March - Come in - How glad I am - I hoped for you before - Put down your Hat - You must have walked - How out of Breath you are… (Emily Dickinson)
Emily got it. March is the welcomed guest of thawing homes, out of breath (as are we), and seemingly grateful that Winter's toil is beginning to subside; a gift basket of remedies to warm and lighten. Her fare translates into waistlines, hearty and thick whittling themselves down to light and crisp. She offers nature her most dramatic role yet in a nonsensical collision of icy mood swings and maternal instinct. March's breath—the enchantment of thawing perfume.
Gracious in His practicality, the Lord gives us this window of time where iced branches co-exist with delicate blooms: a calculated dance between shadowed pockets and open sunshine. March gives us a few short weeks where checking the weather before opening your front door could save you from the obvious struggle of a 35 degree day spent in sandals and a light sweater. She is mischievous in her timing, requiring a certain kind of attention.
The gold tucked between her calendar days is unlimited, and often un-mined.
Eyes peeled for color, discount obvious tones of gray and white as the opposed colorless. Yet, it is in the space between the two, the environment that allows both frost and vivacity to exist, that March presents an opportunity for beauty to become brave in us if we simply grant her permission.
The 20th of March marks this year's spring Equinox for North America. It is our hope that this issue of F + B magazine turns your appreciation towards the intentionality of His design for life burgeoning this month. May this appreciation momentarily quiet our daydreams of bronzed skin, and awaken the hibernating spaces within. It is our hope that those places stir His purpose for you this month—this very moment— and gracefully shatter your vision into a season of awakening.
For "…If your [vision is] healthy, your whole body will be full of light." Matthew 6:22
Let's be daughters of light, let's wake the world.