I take it as a sign to keep hopeful. The little foot-tall eastern redbud seedling we brought up the mountain from our yard in Greenville four years ago is more than twice my height now and bloomed last week. We have good dirt. All manner of lives thrive here that never expected to take root in this place.
We need to remember when there is so much hardship, sickness and dying all around that even uprooted, unhomed and cast down in a strange land, there is still capacity to flower.