We feel the earth breaking through, even if it's just that the snow has melted. We see the trees clap their hands, even if it's only the wind. We know the rocks cry out, we hear them crunch and crackle when we walk on them free of ice. And this is how we know: we know because He inhabits the praises of His people, His creation shouts His name and we who have laid low in the valley lift up our eyes to the hills.

Because He's our helper.

I am struck by this truth today, as I watch spring burst forth in the wild Vs of Canadian Geese flying homeward, as the water from the hills rushes and flows and channels and rises, as children wear their light jackets and as I roll down my car windows letting air permeate my lungs--I am struck by how He helps us. He helps us strategize and organize and breathe and let the burdens fall behind, He lightens our load.

Because, I'll be honest, in the wake of winter it is hard to remember those promises from last summer. It is harder to remember the promises from two thousand years ago. It's sometimes hardest to remember yesterday's promise. But, we who are looking, know that we don't necessarily have to see to believe.

We need only to remember what we once saw, what we once tasted, what mountain we climbed before our descent into the valley. We who are looking need only to believe that He is our helper and that He brings spring to our lifelessness and forgetfulness. That he calls to remembrance the things which fill pages and not always our hearts. That it is Him who bursts forth in every pore of the earth, every rock of the mountains, and every stream channeling down!

That He, who condescends to help his creation wake up and remember, is our Helper too.