Proof The Bible Is True

Winters are long and unforgiving in North Dakota. The winter of 1996 was especially brutal. It was a difficult time in my own life too. A neck injury had kept me flat in bed for nearly a year. I was finally allowed up for short periods in March. “Just in time for Easter,” my husband, Dick, said.

 

But I dreaded it. How could I sing “bloom in every meadow” when the snow was four feet deep? How could I summon up the joy of the season knowing I had months of excruciating physical therapy ahead?

 

I stood stiffly at my kitchen sink doing the dishes one day, feeling as bleak and hopeless as the frozen landscape beyond the window.

 

There was a tap against the glass. Without even looking, I knew it was a branch of the biggest, oldest tree in our yard, that troublesome cottonwood.

 

Read More: Hope Came Tapping at Her Window – Guideposts