Spring has Sprung in Georgia 

(Photo by Sherri Purcell)

The azaleas are bursting into shades of bright pinks and corals against a backdrop of spring green. Dogwoods are blossoming, using their delicate ivory petals to tell the story of Christ. New buds are patiently waiting to paint the dull gray tree branches into vibrancy. Pollen is sprinkling fine yellow dust on cars, porches, and houses and making its way into sinus cavities everywhere.

Chipmunks are awake, birds are singing, and life is renewing. Kids see the end of another school year approaching and can feel the summer sun just around the bend. May celebrates graduations, June brings weddings, and vacations are waiting in the wings.   

When I glance in my closet, I see only grays, blacks, and charcoals paired with blue jeans. It is beyond so drab and wintery that I envision a snowflake falling on the Christmas sweater! Maybe I should plant a pink azalea under the racks or perhaps go shopping — my husband votes for the azalea idea. 

Yes, spring has sprung everywhere in Georgia, painting the world with its vibrant colors, except for my closet, which still holds the remnants of winter.

Did we not just celebrate Christmas? Did I miss a few months of living? Why does the clock need to spring forward when I just sprang it back a few days ago?   

This not-so-spring chicken needs help to keep up with all the renewed springing around me!

The seasons seem to be racing by, leaving me with a sense of urgency. The days, like fleeting moments, slip through my fingers, and I find myself yearning to hold onto each one, cherishing them as if they were as precious as diamonds.   

When the Masters tournament is played in Augusta each April, a flood of memories washes over me. The sight of the tournament brings back vivid images of my parents eagerly awaiting the spring day when they could witness Arnold Palmer, Sam Snead, or Ben Hogan grace the famed links in Georgia.  

I was born into the world of golf because my father was likely on a golf course somewhere with Bobby Jones when Mom delivered me. Perhaps it is the Scottish DNA that propelled Dad to shine his golf shoes and Mom to iron her Bermuda shorts when the spring air began to float down the fairways and a warm breeze swayed the pines.

On the wall near my desk is a framed photograph of my three children, all dressed in Sunday finery, posed for the camera. Amy, the eldest, is nine, with a slight smile curved upward as curls frame her sweet face. Tiny Heather is six and happily unaware that her big smile shows off a mouth with few teeth. With his impish grin and sweet face, Corey, age four, is wearing a suit sporting wide lapels that touch each shoulder. It is Easter Day 1979. 

Today, my three little ones are grown, and my parents are hopefully watching their old golf heroes play on the heavenly links above the clouds in the Master’s realm.

Spring continues its triumphant return to Georgia just as it always has. The same old oak with its bud-filled branches falls over the same patch of earth, providing shade from the Southern heat for another generation.

I believe God delivers spring to remind us that hope is just under the surface of everything in life. And, as sure as I say I can’t keep up with it all, He will spring another season on me anyway. Life moves on whether we are ready for it or not, and that is as it should be.     

The blessing of this season, with its beauty and joy, teaches us that we can renew our hearts anytime. We can become more vibrant if we want to. We can wake up smiling with Mother Nature on a spring morning or hide under the covers, wait for winter, and miss the whole thing.  

For me, this season is a reminder to embrace change and renewal. I will plant my azalea in my closet, clear the dust from the tabletops, and take Sudafed to combat the pollen. I will watch the old oak sprout leaves, and I will strive to discover something new about myself every day until the day I am on the links again with my parents. 

I will not mourn my youth, nor the springs gone by, but instead rejoice in the memories of the seasons I have witnessed and happily attempt to grab those flying by me now.  

As certain as the sun rises and falls, spring unfurls its heavenly glory in Georgia, beckoning us to renew our lives and spirits and reminding us to continue our journey of growth. 


Lynn Walker Gendusa is a Georgia author and columnist whose latest book, “Southern Comfort: Stories of Family, Friendship, Fiery Trials, and Faith,” is available on Amazon. For more of Lynn’s inspirational stories, click here.

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