I love seasons. I love living in a place with four distinct and very different seasons. I love summer because it is warm and full of energy, especially relational energy. I always want to hang out with people late into the day in summer. I love autumn because it is crisp and full of warming smells and festivals celebrating food. Autumn nights are great for enjoying cooler weather, with a warm drink and close friends or family. I love winter because it gives me the chance to do things best described by the word “snuggling” and eating and drinking things best described by the word “hearty.” And, of course, I love spring! Even though I know spring is coming every year, it still feels like a little miracle each time, full of hope and renewal.
Conversely, there are things I tire of in each season that make me long for a new one. Hot and stifling summer days make me anxious for the crisp, clean air of Autumn. Autumn isn’t quite cold enough to give me the excuse to stay cozy inside my warm house. Winter days are short and dark, and I yearn for the sun, and less layers of clothing. Spring can be fickle, and I never know how to dress. I am carried through the end of each season with the hope that the next one is coming, like clockwork, and I will get to experience all it’s wonder and tedium once again.
So, why do I not look at seasons in my life in the same way? In my life, when things are slow or when they are hectic, I want to stop in my tracks, figure out the problem, and then wrestle it the ground with a lot of aggressive energy. Or, sometimes, I just want to crawl into a little hole (called Netflix) until it goes away. Seldom do I follow the frenetic pace, or the frustrating stagnation, like a path, just seeing where it goes and giving myself time to observe patterns and get the general lay of the land.
Lately I have been praying that I would trust God’s goodness enough to afford me the security that frees me to walk an unknown path for a while, with a heightened awareness, sure, but also without hand-wringing worry that I’m lazy or about to fall apart. I want to see discontent, frustration, anger, loneliness, and feelings of rejection, not as obstacles in my path to be obliterated, but as directional arrows pointing me to something deeper and full of hope. The hope is that there is richer love and satisfaction on the other side, for me and for the world around me. I am fearfully and wonderfully made (Ps. 149:13) and I want to truly believe that, and see God do big things in, and through, His precious daughter.