It’s an unusual spring here in the Northeast, the spring time temperatures arriving a month ago and causing everything in nature to be four to six weeks ahead of schedule. Even the hosta has emerged and grown to the size it should be in early May. It gives me a great chance to poke around outside, surveying the lingering daffodils and burgeoning hydrangea and rhododendron. During a recent moment in the garden I noticed a tulip cleaved in half and hanging by a small thread of stem, its stamen intact and highlighted by the redness of the petals sliced so clean that they appeared to have been cut by a sharp scissors. I found no clue, no nearby fallen branch, no ready explanation for the severing, and brought the remaining bloom inside, placing it in a small dish of water. It’s been floating there for the past couple days, and each time I see it I wonder. And it reminds me of the heart of Jesus, split wide open in his mercy for us, exposed for us to see inside of his great love for us.