New life sometimes just shows up.
I have experienced it in my own life, watching life and hope emerge from the wreckage of a previous existence.
In the spring, new life emerges in every direction. Crocus and daffodils emerge from cold, barren earth. Dry, twiggy vines put forth leaf buds and tendrils and eventually fruit.
These pine cones are emerging on a short, awkward blue spruce that I bought as a Christmas tree the first Christmas after my divorce. Putting life back together meant living smaller, simpler, more sustainably. And so I bought a potted spruce that could serve as a Christmas tree for a season and the brighten the lawn. We left it potted for more than two years. When we moved into a new home and began establishing a new normal, the tree eventually got planted. It was seriously stunted, pathetic.
But it didn't stay that way. It took a while, but new life showed up - just like new life was showing up all around me, all around us.
New life shows up. Roots long buried bear new life - sometimes unexpectedly.