Rediscovering joy in the changing seasons
I am so ready for warm weather.
Those are words you don’t often hear come from me. I love winter - the snow, the quiet, the slower pace, clear night skies. It’s also comforting that, with our planet getting warmer, winter still comes.
I love winter, until we have a week like we’ve had here in Kentucky - heavy rains last weekend that caused devastating flooding, followed by snow and frigid temperatures. I don’t want to complain, but not even the Christmas lights which still glow softly inside our house are enough to pull me out of this funk I’ve found myself in.
I’m not exactly sure what has brought on this round of the gloomies. The cold, yes. But, I’ve been keeping plenty busy with subbing in the local middle school, where I have even led a couple of band rehearsals (which is a not so secret dream of mine). I’m working on a massive crochet blanket, which when finished should cover a queen size bed. (I don’t know what I was thinking making it that big. It’s winter. I guess I needed a challenge.)
Yesterday, Maxwell the Cat and I sat at my desk watching the birds outside at the bird feeder. The bright red cardinals were brilliant against the white snow. I finally remembered that I have a camera, with a long-distance lens that I could use to take pictures of the birds with. So, I bundled up and went outside, where I quietly sat and took a snapped a few shots.
I haven’t had my camera out much lately. In fact, the last pictures on the SD card were from our youngest’s senior year of marching band, a year and a half ago. Seeing those pictures brought up joy at remembering, and sadness that my crazy band mom self has “graduated.” I wasn’t planning for these emotions when I plugged the card into my computer, but they showed up anyway.
It was while I was looking through and editing the pictures that I began to understand what’s going on with me.
We are so close to March 20 and the beginning of spring. The days are slowly getting longer, and the sun is shining a little bit brighter. The raspberry bushes I ordered a couple of weeks ago should be arriving soon, and it will be time to start planning our new garden. These are all things I am so looking forward to.
At the same time, my children will still be away at college. They won’t be here to help plant the berries. They can’t help us figure out the best place for a garden, or help plant the seeds. By the time they get home in May, all of that will be done and they’ll get busy with their summer jobs and activities.
I didn’t realize how much I have enjoyed their involvement in these routine activities, until now.
That’s the thing about the changing seasons. For many people, the first day of spring will mean we “spring forward” on our clocks. At least on the calendar, winter will be in the rearview mirror. March 20 is Palm Sunday, so we followers of Jesus will be celebrating the day Jesus entered into Jerusalem, celebrated as the king he truly is.
But, that day will also be a marker of how time is passing. It will remind us that we are continuing to move farther away from what was, and forward into what now is, and what will continue to be.
The changing seasons remind us of times with our person, of the things we used to do, trips we took, plans we made. They remind us of daily routines we wish we could have back.
We haven’t seen a blue sky and sunshine in over a week here in our small part of the world. And I don’t like that my thoughts have turned all melancholy. But you know, it’s ok that they have. Just because the sun is out and the snow is melting doesn’t mean that I have to be happy, happy, joy, joy. Grief and sadness over what or who we have lost simply won’t allow it. And that’s ok. That’s part of what it means to be human and to love.
I really am grateful for this day. At the same time, I’m also remembering and thinking about what now is. It may not be what I had planned, but God continues to be faithful and remind me that He was with me in the past, and he is still with me today.
And I am grateful for these moments from God.
Peace,
Denise
