Seasons

I love mornings.  If I had to choose between sitting and watching a sunrise or sunset I’d opt for sunrise 9 times out of 10.  Maybe because in the morning I’m drinking my first mug of coffee (btw is there anything better than that first sip of your first cup), and my mind, while awake, is slow-moving, so it’s easy to just observe rather than fight off sleepiness or thoughts of the day that just ended.  

Early today in Maggie’s room I gazed out the window to happily see that the darkness was giving way to that lighter blue haze.  Daylight savings time takes away the pre-dawn light for a little bit, but I swear already I see the natural flow of daytime starting to stretch it’s way into the wee hours of morning.  

Seasons are interesting.  They’re constant.  And who doesn’t love spring?  Actually, I know some people don’t.  My buddy Dana and a couple of her boys get gnarly allergies once the season shifts warmer and it’s wretched.  But allergies aside!  I feel like spring practically buzzes with life and promise.  Each season has overwhelming sensations that accompany it: summer has warmth, relaxation and everyone starts listening to country music (or at least they should).  Fall has lists, excitement with school and the unbeatable feeling of comfort with nights that call for jackets, chili and football.  Winter has a joy that’s unmatched as holiday anticipation starts to wind-up and the love that you embody for family and friends reaches it’s peak.  

But spring.  There’s nothing like it.  To me it brings about the most welcome notion of any of the seasons - a sense of hope.  

Change is a part of life.  It’s inevitable.  And there are times I forget about it because it feels like it’s never going to happen (which isn’t the case) or fear it because it’s happening too quickly (usually not the case either).  

I saw one of my favorite young couples together at church last Sunday.  They dated a couple years ago for a few months but broke up due to distance and choices that seemed necessary at the time.  But now they are together and stronger, both focused on a future together because they allowed themselves to wait for the right season to make their relationship what it needed to be.  I was so excited to see them next to each other I almost stopped singing…on stage.  “Praise Him and OHMIGOSH YOU GUYS ARE BACK TOGETHER!!!!!!”  It was close. 

Some seasons are longer than others.  I’m in the space right now where normal pants don’t happen, make-up is rarely applied and I don’t leave my house very often - all of which can be frustrating.  My middle child was born almost six years ago, and I had gotten to a point where my life and body felt like my own again.  And now I’m back at square one looking down at a stomach that kind of folds over onto itself, circles under my eyes that seem to be tattooed on and an infant that’s bound and determined to be held 99% of the time she’s awake.  It’s hard to imagine even a year or so ago to where I would pick up the kids from school in a button-down shirt, jeans and high heeled boots.  BOOTS, PEOPLE!!  

What life has sweetly taught me though, is that in any given season I have a choice.  To grimace at the current and strive too quickly to change to the betterment of the future?  To look longingly back and wish that different decisions had been made so that the situation now was something else?  Or to allow myself to exist in what is happening so fully and completely that when the change and hope of a new season strikes, I find myself not fearful, nor exhausted, just blissfully saying - ahhhh, yes.  

Cause here’s what’s awesome - comfy pants help me move around and wrestle with my kids easily, plus there’s no amount of spit-up or poop that can ruin them.  No make-up means I can put my face all over my baby’s and I don't need to worry about whatever oils, chemicals or colors are there to rub off on her perfect skin.  And not leaving my house a bunch means I get to get her naps down pat.  Can I get a fist raised in solidarity from all the mamas for that feeling when you lay them down, slide the bedroom door shut and listen closely to hear…silence? Yaaaaaaaaas.     

And wouldn’t you know it, slowly, but surely…metamorphosis.  Sit-ups can happen now because my stomach muscles are strengthening, the husband’s reaction when we go out and I exit our room dressed and with hair and make-up done is like “hey, girl...what are you doing later?”, and taking excursions here and there beyond just the grocery store has me all kinds of pumped for adult conversation.  In that vein, if I have run into you around town and talked your ear off for ten minutes - sorry.    

So as spring gets sprung, may you breathe deep the anticipation of this season.  Real refinement is absolute, but it takes time.  Am I the only person who thinks God created seasons to LITERALLY remind us of that?  Change is always coming, some good and some bad, so enjoy the good, persist through the difficult and always, always hope.  Because just when you think you’re stuck and things aren’t ever going to evolve, you find yourself wearing actual pants instead of sweats again.