Winter has lingered long—outside, yes, but even more so inside me. The ground of my heart has felt cold and hard, the way winter soil feels when the sun hasn’t reached it in weeks.

But today I feel it. The faintest stirring. The turning of the season. The breaking of something beneath the surface.

I don’t know what’s ready to grow yet—I only know that things have been happening underground. Hidden. Quiet. Sacred. And maybe—just maybe—what was done in the dark, in the cold, in the quiet… will push through the dirt into something beautiful.

So I say it boldly: Good riddance, winter. For now at least.

Revive me, O Lord.
Let gladness fill the rooms where grief has sat long enough. Let color return to the places in my soul that have grown dull with sorrow. Let laughter echo in the halls again—honest, unforced, and full.

Let Your blessings fall like rain, not because I’ve earned them, but because You are kind. Wash away the crusted layers of despair. Soften this soil. Make it ready for joy.

Let the break of dawn bring new life.

Because Jesus is Light.
And Light is Life.
And that Life is greater than any darkness I’ve known.

The darkness doesn’t understand it.
Can’t comprehend it.
Can’t overcome it.

So invade my heart again with Your light, Lord. Flood the cracks where bitterness tries to linger. Chase out the shadows of sorrow. Bring peace where chaos lives. Joy where grief still rests its head. And life—deep, radiant, resurrection life—that goes beyond what I can reason or explain.

This is my springtime prayer.
Let it be so.