The sound of frogs singing and crickets chirping always give me a strange peace and unrest all at the same time. It’s the end of April in Memphis; the season is in a state of change while days grow longer, but I haven’t flipped the calendar to summer time. The sounds remind me of new life and not quite there.

Trees have buds, and thunder passes regularly. Life and loud rushing to win the race to humid, hot days by the pool with summer reading, new goals, and more unknowns. Days turning and changing in life often rush loud, lively, but not quite there with every day being full of the knowing exactly and not knowing at all. It is a state of living in the both: and while choosing to turn my face from the either: or that brings me stinging comfort.

I ache for more days with them and long to see the adults they have become. During the summer they change. They change addresses. Some come home, but their home is elsewhere in their hearts. Some make their own homes, but remind me Momma’s house is always close to their heart. Some are in-between not knowing where they belong, but I take comfort in knowing they will settle with their own understanding of at home with themselves in the brightest and darkest places. The letting go and holding on started with their first breaths. It is a careful balance of blown dandelions and firmly planted oaks.

Singing frogs remind me of these moments of choosing and believing that seasons come and they will not overtake us even with all of the dandelion seeds and heavy blowing limbs. The chirping crickets narrow my heart reminding me to see the possibilities with dandelion seeds blown new and sturdy oaks standing with history.

Isaiah 61:1-7
1-7 The Spirit of God, the Master, is on me
because God anointed me.
He sent me to preach good news to the poor,
heal the heartbroken,
Announce freedom to all captives,
pardon all prisoners.
God sent me to announce the year of his grace—
a celebration of God’s destruction of our enemies—
and to comfort all who mourn,
To care for the needs of all who mourn in Zion,
give them bouquets of roses instead of ashes,
Messages of joy instead of news of doom,
a praising heart instead of a languid spirit.
Rename them “Oaks of Righteousness”
planted by God to display his glory.
They’ll rebuild the old ruins,
raise a new city out of the wreckage.
They’ll start over on the ruined cities,
take the rubble left behind and make it new.
You’ll hire outsiders to herd your flocks
and foreigners to work your fields,
But you’ll have the title “Priests of God,”
honored as ministers of our God.
You’ll feast on the bounty of nations,
you’ll bask in their glory.
Because you got a double dose of trouble
and more than your share of contempt,
Your inheritance in the land will be doubled
and your joy go on forever.
The Message (MSG)
Copyright © 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson