I probably need to go away for a week or so and just not look at the vineyard for awhile. I’ve been breathing the pollen of Spring for a month now. All around I see the full display of the season. Many of the earliest exhibitors have long since dropped their petals and are already setting fruit. Not the vines. I know from the literature and seven years of experience that mature grapes are the last to bud and show color. But still I look. Several times a day I pace ever so slowly down each row looking for some sign of life that wasn’t there the last time I looked. I know a watched pot never boils. And I know God makes everything beautiful in its own time. But still, like watchmen wait for the dawn, I expectantly look. Its become a ritual I repeat every Spring. Not that it makes things grow any faster, if anything time seems to pass more slowly, but somehow it seems to increase the joy at the appearance of the first tender shoot. So it should be with those who expect to see Jesus. Like a bride waiting for her groom. We wait. Even so, come!