This is the first spring we’ve lived in our house, and lately we make a new discovery every time we walk outside. There’s a flower bed just outside our side door, where daffodils have been peeking up for a week. Finally, yesterday, one exploded into yellow. There are purple crocuses there, too, and I’m pretty sure those curly green leaves are going to turn out to be tulips. Everywhere we look, it seems, something is growing that I didn’t know was there.

One of the things I love about living in an older house is this inheritance of all the past owners.  I set out recently to hang up a clothesline between two trees in the backyard, only to discover a metal hook in one of the trees, and a big knot in the other; someone had had the same idea before. And it’s fun to imagine someone lovingly planting those daffodils years ago, watching them bloom every spring, then moving on to whatever new adventure awaited them, leaving the bulbs buried deep down in the ground for us.

Church is that way, too, I think. Very few of us were here when this building was built, or when the steeple was perched up on top. Most of us are the inheritors of seeds that were planted long ago, by people who loved this church and were committed to its ministry. It makes me wonder what kind of seeds we are planting that might someday sprout and grow and explode into colorful new life.