Confession:
This is not a seasonally relevant blog post.
I spoke with my precious friend, Beth, today. She's like a little burst of sunshine every time we speak. I love her for it. Her joyful attitude today reminded me of this old blog entry I wrote last Spring (she is a featured aspect of the entry). I know it's not seasonally correct, but the point is still valid. Enjoy some thoughts from Spring, 2013...
It’s not Spring yet in Colorado.
It’s Spring where I live in my little Mayberry of the Midwest. The grass is growing up, begging to be cut. The birds are the first thing I hear each morning, and the trees have launched into full blown green that makes the whole day seem like it’s in an Instagram filter.
Everything has a hint of energy and life in it.
I am busy soaking up the renewal and rebirth lessons of spring (I’ll save that for another day…) when I casually glance at my phone. A message waits for me from my son. It includes a photo of a snowy town that resembles Antarctica. It is definitely not Spring time in Colorado. It’s actually blizzard time. Late April has suddenly dumped 10-12 inches of snow on his dreams of wearing shorts and a tank top out to the lake. Sorry. Dream delayed.
When I spoke to him later that day, we laughed about the weather disparity. I was feeling blessed. He was feeling cursed. It was light-hearted and shallow, but later I realized that it tells a story worth noting.
Call me crazy, but the older I get, the more I see God in everything. And isn’t it just like God to point out in a blizzard kind of way that we are all different, and all have different timing in our lives? And by the way, we aren’t in charge of time.
I think about my mom – a precious and strong lady who laughs at the future. She does not worry. Period. She has faced lots of blizzards in her life and I wouldn’t want to trek through them. But she is thriving in her 70s with a faith that says, “It’s ok if it isn’t spring yet.” Just embrace winter, and when it’s gone, learn its lessons and move on.
And then there’s my neighbor who nearly died when her child was born into a blizzard condition called a uterine rupture. Look it up. I did. And the words morbidity, fatality, and life-threatening are all over it. Like a 12” snowfall covering any hope of life. But weeks later, she and her miraculously alive son are home and thriving. It’s spring.
I recognize spring. As a matter of fact, my 30-year friend Beth lives almost every day like it is the Spring Equinox. She celebrates every phone call, every “I-just-saw-you-at-the grocery-store” encounter with the enthusiasm of a Final Four buzzer beater. She is joyful, cheerful, smiling. She does this, by the way, out of abundance of love that Jesus has poured into her heart.
Lately, I have been privileged to see another side of her. It’s winter. Her mother is dying. And although she knows that her mother will eventually be in the arms of Jesus upon her departure from this Earth, it stings. She doesn’t want to hold mom here. She doesn’t want to let her go.
Alas, we don’t have the choice. As I hear the words my friend speaks, I am reminded once again of her positive outlook on life. “Mom is home! So thankful to God for what he has done for her in welcoming her to eternity today.” So it’s spring for Mom. She is experiencing the ultimate version of rebirth and renewal. And while it’s not yet Spring for my friend, she knows what is coming. And that is renewal enough for today.
As you brush up against others in your walk through life today, be careful to notice what season in might be. And I’m not talking about the weather. Listen to the conditions of the heart. Is it filled with cold, barren darkness and a long wait to the finish? Is it bounding with growth and new life, busting out of the ground like a bottle rocket in the summer sky? Whatever the season, treat accordingly. Encourage, comfort, rejoice, or embrace. For even in winter, there is the hope of spring.
This is not a seasonally relevant blog post.
I spoke with my precious friend, Beth, today. She's like a little burst of sunshine every time we speak. I love her for it. Her joyful attitude today reminded me of this old blog entry I wrote last Spring (she is a featured aspect of the entry). I know it's not seasonally correct, but the point is still valid. Enjoy some thoughts from Spring, 2013...
It’s not Spring yet in Colorado.
It’s Spring where I live in my little Mayberry of the Midwest. The grass is growing up, begging to be cut. The birds are the first thing I hear each morning, and the trees have launched into full blown green that makes the whole day seem like it’s in an Instagram filter.
Everything has a hint of energy and life in it.
I am busy soaking up the renewal and rebirth lessons of spring (I’ll save that for another day…) when I casually glance at my phone. A message waits for me from my son. It includes a photo of a snowy town that resembles Antarctica. It is definitely not Spring time in Colorado. It’s actually blizzard time. Late April has suddenly dumped 10-12 inches of snow on his dreams of wearing shorts and a tank top out to the lake. Sorry. Dream delayed.
When I spoke to him later that day, we laughed about the weather disparity. I was feeling blessed. He was feeling cursed. It was light-hearted and shallow, but later I realized that it tells a story worth noting.
Call me crazy, but the older I get, the more I see God in everything. And isn’t it just like God to point out in a blizzard kind of way that we are all different, and all have different timing in our lives? And by the way, we aren’t in charge of time.
I think about my mom – a precious and strong lady who laughs at the future. She does not worry. Period. She has faced lots of blizzards in her life and I wouldn’t want to trek through them. But she is thriving in her 70s with a faith that says, “It’s ok if it isn’t spring yet.” Just embrace winter, and when it’s gone, learn its lessons and move on.
And then there’s my neighbor who nearly died when her child was born into a blizzard condition called a uterine rupture. Look it up. I did. And the words morbidity, fatality, and life-threatening are all over it. Like a 12” snowfall covering any hope of life. But weeks later, she and her miraculously alive son are home and thriving. It’s spring.
I recognize spring. As a matter of fact, my 30-year friend Beth lives almost every day like it is the Spring Equinox. She celebrates every phone call, every “I-just-saw-you-at-the grocery-store” encounter with the enthusiasm of a Final Four buzzer beater. She is joyful, cheerful, smiling. She does this, by the way, out of abundance of love that Jesus has poured into her heart.
Lately, I have been privileged to see another side of her. It’s winter. Her mother is dying. And although she knows that her mother will eventually be in the arms of Jesus upon her departure from this Earth, it stings. She doesn’t want to hold mom here. She doesn’t want to let her go.
Alas, we don’t have the choice. As I hear the words my friend speaks, I am reminded once again of her positive outlook on life. “Mom is home! So thankful to God for what he has done for her in welcoming her to eternity today.” So it’s spring for Mom. She is experiencing the ultimate version of rebirth and renewal. And while it’s not yet Spring for my friend, she knows what is coming. And that is renewal enough for today.
As you brush up against others in your walk through life today, be careful to notice what season in might be. And I’m not talking about the weather. Listen to the conditions of the heart. Is it filled with cold, barren darkness and a long wait to the finish? Is it bounding with growth and new life, busting out of the ground like a bottle rocket in the summer sky? Whatever the season, treat accordingly. Encourage, comfort, rejoice, or embrace. For even in winter, there is the hope of spring.