Seasons

I've been thinking a lot about the seasons lately. Usually I don't enjoy spring very much. It's too bright, chilly, and wet. I prefer the muted colors of fall. The wind and the storms and thoughts of snuggling up in blankets and pumpkin pie and costume parties. But I've felt like I've been living in a perpetual state of winter for the last few years. Dry, barren, colorless, cold. Lots of questions, no response. Isolation and restlessness have surrounded me for a long time. 

My sister wrote a song called "Winter" for our band, and it became my theme song. Every time she sings it, I plead the words in my heart:

            Winter, will you ever end?

            Winter, let us breathe again

And on the bridge, I remind God of His promise:

            You said that You

            You said that You would make me new

It builds and builds in intensity, the tension finally released in chords that bring resolution to the song's end. I wish I could play you the song, because it's incredibly beautiful and moving, so emotionally raw. It will be on our upcoming cd, though.

Every morning, one of the first things I do is to open all the curtains in our living room. I love the sunlight, watching the trees blow in the wind, the squirrels gather pecans, and the occasional birds or cats that wander into our backyard. Listening to the wind chimes singing their melodies. Nature refreshes me in a way that's hard to explain. And for some reason, I'm in awe of spring this year. Everything is so alive, so vivid and hopeful. I feel hopeful, too. I feel the sun warming my heart. Things that looked dead and barren inside of me are beginning to blossom with new life. It was unexpected, but it's beautiful. I feel so grateful to be waking up from winter at last. Now the brightness doesn't bother me. It is the brilliant light that makes the colors sparkle in the sun. And the wetness is good. The rain makes everything green. The water satisfies thirsty roots, parched from winter's dryness.

I've learned a lot in my season of winter. I understand how God must prune me back to my core so that I may flourish in His timing. When I'm exposed and vulnerable, all of my weaknesses are evident. I can't hide under the coverings that other seasons provided. And that is when I have learned to cry out to God. I depend on Him completely, trust Him with my very life. And just when I finally became content with this season of barrenness, this process of being pruned and exposed- spring unfurled around me. It makes me appreciate all the details of awakening even more. Hope has made the colors and sounds and textures come alive in my new season of springtime. And I'm going to enjoy every second of it this time around.