With both the recent celebration of Easter and the long-awaited (looooong-awaited) arrival of Spring, there’s a feeling of newness in the air that I am all about right now. There are the teeniest, tiniest buds on the trees, and those bright little crocuses are sprinkled across front lawns and along sidewalks.
Finally getting temperatures that don’t require a down-filled parka or insulated boots has brought with it an excitement and liberation that my fellow Newfoundlanders will surely know and cherish as much as I do. You better believe you’ll see me cruising around town with the windows cracked just a little and my jacket zipped up only 3/4 of the way.
(Hey, the sun might have a little more strength but that wind is blowing off the piles of snow that are still shrinking and it is chilly.)
April has always marked the emergence of hopefulness and light after the long, dark haul through the winter. Since my life and work have continued to revolve around the school year, April also means June might come after-all and HALLELUJAH summer vacation is a thing that exists and we will survive but ARE WE THERE YET?!
This year, more than any other, the arrival of spring has taken me by surprise. Not so unlike the end of June when the school year seems to come to an abrupt and surprising finish, despite the fact that you’ve had a countdown on your wall since September. (That was just me? Okay cool.)
I think I have been so fixated on how darn long this winter has been, a part of me started to believe it wouldn’t end.
There is definitely some connection here to a great metaphor about the winters of our lives and how living through them can feel like a lifetime of desolation and stagnant waiting. But I think that’s what makes the seasons of the year and the seasons of our lives such a perfect comparison.
Forget about what’s happened;
don’t keep going over old history.
Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new.
It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it?
There it is! I’m making a road through the desert,
rivers in the badlands.
Isaiah 43: 18-19 (MSG)
I’ve spent a lot of this winter just waiting for it to be over. Then all of a sudden I’m stopping in my tracks because those purple crocuses are such a beautiful contrast to the brown, dead-looking mess they sprang up from. And I start to feel a little silly that I didn’t trust what I have seen God make happen every year of my existence- winter giving way to spring.
I can’t help but see how He does that for us, too.
Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new. Winter, it’s over. Spring 2014: commence.
Let’s throw off those down-filled parkas with wild abandon, shall we?