“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13 (NRSVUE)

By February, I have about had it. Winter in Western Pennsylvania can sometimes do that to a person. It feels like day after day of gray skies, frigid temperatures, mounds of snow in the parking lot with a grocery cart at the top that some prankster has managed to get up the 12 foot mound. The groundhog invariably predicts six more weeks of winter.

There are those who love winter and embrace the cold. There are others who live in climates that are very different from Western Pennsylvania. I get it. I just happen to not be that person.

Last year, Lent showed up early, but this year we have to wait another month. Though short, February can feel like it is almost a placeholder between winter and spring — almost, but not yet.

There are tantalizing glimmers of joy, beauty and hope, though. In my yard snow drops pop up, transplanted from my grandmother’s home years ago. Lenten Roses “Royal Helleborus” make their lovely show in the side yard this time of year. Crocuses will soon push their way through the snow. I have a memory of one year visiting my soon-to-be wife in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, to be delighted by the blanket of daffodils that adorned gardens and yards and even the side of the road in February.

Sometimes it is hard to catch the glimmers of joy, beauty and hope in this world. We are breathless, running from next to next, making plans, another sermon or visit or meeting always on the horizon. We are apprehensive —  our numbers at the church always go down during the winter. Weather, snow birds, and other activities have an impact —  so I wonder if people will come back. We are breathless —  the news cycle, another alert, another breaking story, another worry or fear. It really can be all too much.

Henri Nouwen writes, “Joy is essential to the spiritual life. Whatever we may think of or say about God, when we are not joyful, our thoughts and words cannot bear fruit. Jesus reveals to us God’s love so that his joy may become ours and that our joy may become complete. Joy is the experience of knowing that you are unconditionally loved and that nothing — sickness, failure, emotional distress, oppression, war, or even death — can take that love away … Joy does not simply happen to us. We have to choose joy and keep choosing it every day. It is a choice based on the knowledge that we belong to God and have found in God our refuge and our safety and that nothing, not even death, can take God away from us.”

I am being intentional this year in looking for glimmers of joy, beauty and hope. It is mittens hung on a clothesline near the community garden for anyone who needs a pair. It is laughter as the youth group plays yet another game of “sardines” in the church — it is amazing that they keep finding places to hide. It is the youngsters who came to shovel a neighbor’s walk — no charge, just good will. A plate of cookies from a neighbor. A text that says, “You came to mind today. I just wanted to say that I am grateful for you.” Piano playing emanating from another room in the house.

Of course joy, beauty and hope can be more than just an experience, they can be participatory. This year, our congregation is intentionally gathering at the table. Fellowship Meals, Tables for Eight, the 10th anniversary of the community garden, coffee hour every Sunday, cooking classes, youth group cooking nights, and our newest outreach, a Fourth Tuesday community dinner free of charge — the only caveat, it is “eat in” only.

I wonder, where you will see those glimmers of joy, beauty and hope in this “in between” season?

Peace be with you. May the Holy Spirit abide in love and care. May the joy of Christ bring you completeness.