Yesterday was grey here. The kind of grey that looms over you and has you wondering if spring will ever come. Our city has been in mourning as our summer music festival was cancelled. The outpouring of grief that flooded the newspaper was unsurprising to me. For a generation it has been the thing that brought this struggling place to life and reminded us of what was possible. Each summer the downtown core was resurrected and we bore witness to life and vitality. As I read and listened, it wasn’t the music people were mourning but the loss of community, of connectedness. It was a place people would gather, would come home to. It was more than just the music, it was the people.
Yesterday was grey here. The kind of grey that hangs heavy in your heart and as I walked from my car towards the hospice death was on my mind. But in that moment a burst of noise shot forth around me. As I walked towards the place where life intersects with death I saw glimpses of what was to come. The honking grew loud, I turned to look up and I saw the Canadian Geese coming home. Together they flew in two groups, majestic and proud. The song of their flight brought hope for the spring, remembrances of resurrection. For as they return, so too will the color. Soon we will see green shoots on the ground. Daffodils will dance once more. The leaves will shoot forth and new life will be seen. The world will once again bear witness to the resurrection.
Even on the greyest of days there is hope. Easter is coming. New life will come.