I think this northern winter is taking its toll.

Last night I lay awake thinking about all the little ants down deep in their tunnels and what they must be doing, groping around in the dark and cold. I wanted to yell to them, “Hold on little ants! Spring is coming! You’ll get to see the light soon!”

And I imagined the moment that first little guy emerged from his hole, like coming up out of a grave, his tiny antennae sensing bright warmth for the first time in months.

I wonder if ants do a hallelujah dance.

Since I was wide awake, I started imagining bees buzzing and crocus popping and grass green  and trees finding their leaves again. I imagined that first barefoot step I’ll take out in the yard with the birds chirping and the breeze warming and the scent of all the wild and growing things on the wind. I can hardly wait.

Last fall, just as the last days of warmth were packing up and heading out, I had laid down on the lawn, grass at my back, and told myself to savor that moment and remember it for when the cold days came. I have. I’ve remembered it. That sun soaking into my skin moment. Now, I don’t know if you can harvest sunbeams, but I had surely tried to store them up for a winter’s day.

And today there’s still this deep blanket of snow but God has been gracious to give me a morning and afternoon all full of light. I’ve been admiring it everywhere. While the kids were playing in the bedroom, I walked right over to that window and just stood still in all the blaze.

I think when all this snow melts and those robins come rummaging through last autumn’s leaves and the daffodils push up through the dark, like climbing up from their graves, well, I just won’t be able to help myself.

Neighbors, be forewarned.

I’m gonna do a hallelujah dance.