Lord, March is the hardest month to love.
It tricks you. The light comes through the kitchen window at a different angle and you think it’s warm out. Then you step onto the porch and it isn’t. March is hope before it has any evidence.
I put in crocus bulbs last October. Mason helped—dirt under both our fingernails, him asking whether the flowers know they’re underground in the dark. I said yes. He thought about it. Said, “Do they like it?” I didn’t know. He decided they probably didn’t mind.
He planted something in the ground and walked away. Never gone back to check on it. The faith of that. I’ve checked approximately forty times. The bulbs don’t care. They’re just doing what they were made to do, waiting for what they already know is coming.
That’s what I’m learning in March when the sky looks full of promises but the air is still mean. Plant something. Walk away. Believe what you planted will come up.
Thank You for a little boy who plants things and trusts.
For gardens that grow in darkness without my watching.
For March light even when the air doesn’t match it yet.
Help me plant my own seeds and leave them alone. Help me trust like Mason does. Put the bulb in the ground. Walk away. Believe what You planted will come up.
Amen.
—
Jake called from the rig last night. The porch light is still on from this morning. The crocuses haven’t come up yet.
March 2, 2026
When This Matters
This grace is part of our Daily Grace collection—short pieces that sit at the table with us on the days when we need them. If you’re in the middle of March waiting for something, or if you’ve planted something and now you’re waiting, here are three recipes that help:
- Homemade Chicken Noodle Soup — When Mason had a fever, this was what we made together. Standing at the stove is its own kind of medicine.
- Maggie’s Sunday Pot Roast — Three hours of patience in a Dutch oven. The kind of waiting that produces something worth eating.
- Easy Banana Bread — The thing you almost threw out is often the thing most worth keeping.
More from the Kitchen Table: A Grace for Being Seen · A Grace for Going Back
