I live in a geography of four dramatically distinct seasons: fall, winter, spring, and summer.
And I’ll have to admit to you that this last winter was the hardest winter I’ve ever endured. It was brutal. In fact, almost every day I was asking myself why the hell I live here. There were some days when I was trying to remove snow that I thought I was literally going crazy. Many days we were housebound. We hardly saw anybody. I was spending hours a day just managing the weather’s effects on my property. There were extended days of boredom, extended days of frustration, extended days of anxiety, extended days of confusion. There were many days when I wondered if spring would ever ever come. I was so tempted to talk Lisa into moving somewhere warm.
Then something broke. Grass appeared. It’s last year’s. But it is still grass. Which means less snow! Spring is on its way.
Each season means something different for me:
Fall means introspection. It means slowing down. It means a kind of dying. It means reflection and thoughtfulness, solitude and contemplation.
Winter means barrenness. It means stopping. It means a kind of death. It means having no choice but to stop and do nothing because we literally are not able. It means learning how to hibernate and be dormant.
Spring means promise. It means waking up. It means coming to life. It means finding hope again. It means starting to see the possibility that our labors bear fruit.
Summer means life. It means living. It means sunshine and happiness. It means partying. It means seeing, appreciating, and participating in everything that lives and gives life. It means enjoyment.
Now, these seasons might mean something different to you. But this is what they mean to me.
And I’ve noticed that my life has all of these seasons. Unfortunately, or fortunately, they do not follow a rhythm like nature does. There’s no predictability. There’s no timetable. Any season can come and stay for a short or long while, and go just as suddenly or slowly as it came.
For me, the key is remembering that it is just a season. It is not the totality of my life.
It’s important for me to remember that the weather is not the climate. The climate is steadfast. Seasons are, well, seasonal. They come and they go.
I know from my experience this winter that I can really forget that this is only temporary. I really did despair at how long this was taking. But, alas, one day I awakened to the warmth of the sun and to signs of life.
Spring is coming.
I hope this helps. I hope this gives you hope.
Blessings my friends who are not fair-weather friends.