The mud sticks to my shoes and I’m at a loss whether to wear my dress shoes or my Toms. Frankly, the shockingly high temperature of 37 degrees Fahrenheit (please oh please read my sarcasm there) made me question whether or not to replace my winter boots with rain boots. The weather’s constant state of flux testifies that the seasons are indeed changing. With every pregnant wax and minimizing wane of the moon I’m reminded of the seasons and how they are all managed by the One who created them. The same One who created me.
I don’t do change well. Routine is like a large, fluffy, heirloom quilt and I snuggle in with relish and enjoy life from my perch. I like to know the big picture instead of the next illumined step–the subsequent days and months and years planned in advance. To know that last year looked like this year and that next year will look the same is so very comforting to me–except that life does not follow my desires nor my pre-planned design.
Life is a conglomeration of seasons marked by the passing of diapers to undies, five-point-harnesses to booster seats, and sippy cups to spilling milk all over the table because everyone is using “big kid cups” and someone just got excited and in reaching to steal a chip/dessert/cookie from a sibling’s plate upturned their cup. Paper towels, toilet paper, and cleaning solution are purchased in bulk. Children are undressed, bathed, and re-dressed in an assembly line. The only predictable aspect of our days is that they will be full of crazy and full of love with a large dose of mischief to keep things interesting.
I struggle with the seasonal-ness of life. Struggle to the point that I fought it for a long time…okay, honestly I still fight it. The first few weeks of a new season are the roughest for me. I complain (mostly to God and sometimes out loud) about the ills of the new routine. Really, it’s just the groaning of growing pains. My will molding to His will. My desires changing to fit His. My children protest when we go to the park instead of the bounce house or when pb&j is our lunchtime delicacy instead of pizza. I wonder, do I sometimes resemble them with my lip forced downward and my eyes narrowed, stomping my foot in protest?
Seasons are meant to change. That’s the whole point. They are a time through which to walk, to grow, to learn, and to finally put behind us. So many of us say “this too shall pass” and yes, this season shall too pass. I’m trying to not become so disillusioned with the difficult parts that I miss the blessing, because all too soon, the moon will appear to grow again, waxing gibbous and beyond to a new season…a different season. And this different season will have challenges and blessings all its own. So snuggle down, wrap the quilt around and know that this season is special in and of itself and it won’t last forever.
What season of life do you find yourself in presently? Do you find yourself eagerly awaiting the conclusion or hoping life could stay this way forever?