By Ann Farabee

Sometimes a new season arrives and we do not even realize it until nature reminds us.

Those reminders from nature are the best, because at times the calendar is clueless.

God whispers, “Whoosh,” and the leaves begin changing colors, leaving behind intricate designs painted by the Master.

God whispers, “Whoosh,” and the leaves begin to fall to the ground to make room for the arrival of new buds that usher in spring.

God whispers, “Whoosh,” and the trees know to be still and wait — because a winter wonderland is on the way.

God whispers, “Whoosh,” and a new spring season begins as all becomes new.

After typing these words, I had to take a peek outside just to be sure I had not missed anything. Sure enough, the leaves on the trees had traces of yellowish brown and were moving ever so slightly.

Honestly, at my first look, I only saw one leaf slightly stirring, but then I remembered to be still and wait. Soon I sighted another one — and another one — moving ever so slightly right on cue. Surely, God was sending me heavenly whispers.

In John 20:16, Mary was standing at the tomb of Jesus with tears streaming down her cheeks. Her Lord had been taken away and she did not know where they had taken Him. What a burden for a mother to carry!

Most certainly, the wind of the Holy Spirit whispered, “Whoosh,” as she heard His gentle voice, “Why are you crying? Who are you looking for?”

She was still. She waited.

There was the voice again, but this time she heard Jesus whisper her name, “Mary.”

Not only was it a special moment for Mary, it was also a special moment for the world.

For our world and generations to come were on His mind. He looked ahead in time and thought of us — each of us. Me and you.

In one breath, I believe Jesus whispered all of our names.

Yes, Jesus belonged to Mary, but He also belonged to us. He is our Jesus, and we are His children.

He loved us enough to die for us.

It is not just a great story. It is HIS-tory.

Jesus went from death to life for each and every one of us.

Mary’s season of grief became a season of belief.

She had assumed He was the gardener that day as Jesus spoke to her. In a way, maybe she was right.

For He was our Savior who would tend the gardens of all our lives in all of our futures.

A season of grief became a season of belief. His work had been done, and a new season had begun.

Ann Farabee is a teacher, writer and speaker. Contact her at annfarabee@gmail.com or annfarabee.com.