January 6

I know plenty of folks who love nothing more than a good rainy day. While I do like listening to the occasional drip-drop on my rooftop, I'm perfectly content to live in a place where the sky doesn't weep at all between May and October.

But it's January, and today was a grey and rainy one of the on-and-off variety.

We took our customary Sunday afternoon trip to visit Logan's grave, which is located here in town, just a 10 minutes' drive from home. While Things 1, 3 and 4 waited in the car, Adam and I got out to survey the plants and say our hellos. I was dismayed to see that the once-colorful array of blooms had fallen victim to the past week's frosted mornings. I fingered the leaves of a plant left by an anonymous visitor. For some reason, I pushed a few of them aside, and that's when I saw this

A single fledgling flower, protected from the elements by an umbrella of waxy leaves. Tender new life, guarded and concealed until its time to shine arrives. It's probably one of the most overused examples of God's presence, but it stood out to me today.