The blooms get all the glory. But those buried, hidden bulbs that hold energy through frozen darkness, that allow themselves to spark new shoots when the time is right, that root the beauty of each spring with no praise – those do all of the magic. I think of the Kingdom of God, always there underneath what we can see because we do not look. And yes, we sometimes see the grace, sometimes we feel the Holy Spirit, when it blooms bright enough to pull our eyes away from the distractions, when it is big and powerful. Yet, what gentle, hard-working, life-sustaining holiness we must miss, even as it is surges all around us.