Fruits of the Spirit

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things. If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, competing against one another, envying one another.” 

— Galatians 5:22-33, 25–26

There is something quietly miraculous about this time of year.

Here in Vermont, even if we know better—even if we suspect this might still be “fake spring”—the signs are unmistakable. Snow had begun to melt. The ground softened. Trees, which only weeks ago seemed lifeless, started to show the faintest hint of buds.

And then—of course—it snowed.

It snowed all Friday afternoon. It’s snowing again today, and it’s expected to continue all day long. Spring, it seems, is not quite ready to fully arrive.

But that doesn’t mean it isn’t coming.

Spring is a season of becoming—not of instant transformation, but of gradual, sometimes interrupted growth. The snow may return, but it cannot undo what has already begun beneath the surface.

Paul’s words in Galatians speak of the fruit of the Spirit—not as something forced or manufactured, but something that grows. Fruit takes time. It begins unseen, deep within. It requires nourishment, patience, and care. And when it comes, it is both beautiful and sustaining.

Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Generosity. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Self-control.

These are not burdens placed upon us—they are evidence of life within us.

For many LGBTQ+ people, faith has too often been presented as something restrictive, something that demands we prune away essential parts of who we are. But Paul reminds us that the Spirit does not produce fear, shame, or self-hatred. The Spirit produces fruit—life-giving, nourishing, abundant fruit.

As John 15:5 tells us:

“I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit.”

We are not called to wither. We are called to grow.

And growth is not always loud or dramatic. Sometimes it looks like choosing kindness when bitterness would be easier. Sometimes it is learning to extend grace to ourselves after years of being told we were unworthy. Sometimes it is simply allowing ourselves to exist fully and honestly, trusting that who we are is not a mistake, but part of God’s ongoing creation.

The prophet reminds us in Isaiah 43:19:

“I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?”

Spring is that “new thing” made visible—even when snow is still falling.

Just as trees do not strain to produce buds, and flowers do not question whether they are worthy to bloom, we too are invited to live by the Spirit—to be guided, not driven; to grow, not perform.

Paul’s closing reminder is just as important:

“Let us not become conceited, competing against one another, envying one another.”

Spiritual growth is not a competition. No one blooms at the exact same time. Some trees are still bare while others are already in flower—but all are part of the same season, the same promise.

As 2 Corinthians 5:17 tells us:

“If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!”

This spring—even a snowy one—let yourself become.

• Let love bud where fear once lived.
• Let joy push through the frozen ground of doubt.
• Let peace settle into places that once felt barren.

You do not have to force the fruit. Just remain. Just live. Just grow. And trust that, in time, what is within you will blossom into something beautiful.

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Moment of Zen: Gym Selfies

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First Day of Spring🌺…or Is It?❄️

Today is the vernal equinox—the official first day of spring. Day and night are in perfect balance, and from here on out, the days will keep getting longer. After a long Vermont winter, that alone feels worth celebrating.

And honestly, March has been unusually kind to us this year. It’s been warmer than usual, and much of the snow has already melted away. For a moment, it almost feels like spring has actually arrived on time.

But if you’ve lived in Vermont long enough, you know better than to trust that feeling.

So the question becomes: is this the first “fake spring”? It probably is.

Because while it may feel like spring, nature doesn’t seem entirely convinced. The trees are still bare—no green buds yet, no real signs of new growth. It’s like everything is waiting… just a little longer… before committing.

And then there’s the forecast. Snow on Friday. Snow again on Sunday. Vermont reminding us not to get too comfortable just yet.

Still, for the foreseeable future, our highs are supposed to stay above freezing, and that’s no small thing. The air feels different. The light lingers a little longer in the evening. There’s a subtle shift happening, even if it hasn’t fully revealed itself yet.

Spring is in the air—or at least teasing us.

Of course, in Vermont, spring also means mud season, which is not exactly the most glamorous time of year. But it’s part of the process. The in-between stage where winter gives way to something new.

If autumn is the most beautiful season here, I think spring might be the second—if you’re willing to overlook the mud.

So for now, we wait. We enjoy the warmer days, even if they’re temporary. We keep an eye on the forecast. And we remind ourselves that sooner or later, the green will come.

Even if Vermont makes us work for it.

Have a great day everyone!

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Sleeping In

Since I’m working from home today, I was able to sleep in a bit. When Isabella started trying to wake me, I fed her and then went back to bed. I managed to get an extra hour and a half of sleep. Of course, when I finally did get up, she was more than ready for me to join her. I’m never quite sure whether she doesn’t want me to oversleep or if she just wants me in the living room where she is.

She has always preferred being in the same room as me. That doesn’t necessarily mean I can always see her or even know exactly where she is, but she knows I’m nearby, and for her, that seems to be all that matters.

People often say that cats are aloof, that they do their own thing and care about little else. I’ve never found Isabella to be that way. Unless I get home much earlier than usual, she is almost always at the door when I come in. If I’ve been away, she seems like she can’t get enough of me afterward. She is a very faithful companion, and I feel lucky to have her in my life—though I do sometimes question that at 3 a.m. when she decides she needs to be fed.

In this week’s Isabella pic of the week, the image may not be perfectly focused, but it captures something better—a quiet affection in her eyes as she looks at me.

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Running on Empty (But Still Running)

Yesterday was a busy, exhausting day. By the time I got home, all I wanted to do was crash.

I talked with Susan for a bit, watched the news and Jeopardy!, and tried to read for a while. But I kept catching myself reading the same paragraph over and over again, my eyes drifting closed between sentences. Eventually, I gave up and fell asleep almost immediately.

Apparently, Isabella decided I needed the extra rest. She waited until after 4:00 a.m. before making a halfhearted attempt to wake me. After a few minutes, even she seemed to give up, and I managed to sleep until 4:45 before she determined I was finally awake enough—and, more importantly, that she needed to be fed.

So, I got up.

Even after coffee and breakfast, though, I still feel like I could go right back to sleep.

Unfortunately, that’s not an option today. I have to go into work for a meeting and a public program that I’m hosting. I’m hoping today won’t be quite as exhausting as yesterday, but if it is, at least I have something to look forward to—working from home tomorrow.

Normally, I work from home on Fridays anyway, but this week got shuffled around because of coworkers’ medical appointments. Still, the thought of a quieter morning tomorrow (assuming Isabella allows it) is enough to get me through today.

Let’s just hope she sleeps in.

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