"When you called me to be a Mama, You didn't ask for perfection. But that with every breath, I'd point them to You."

Friday, March 18, 2016

Spring Fever

A bit of writer's block lately so I'm just going to start typing...

It's that time of year when it feels like we take two steps forward, one step back. The snow melts but uncovers brown, lifeless grass underneath. The days bring rain and fog but in turn, slowly turn the brown earth into green and bring the promise of small buds forming on tree branches. The sun shines bright but the wind is strong. The mud is plentiful but at least it's warm enough to go outside and play in. And hey, the days are finally getting longer again.

It sounds ridiculous at times, when thinking of all the hurt in the world, but so much of our moods during these days are dependent upon the weather. There are so many things we long to do. Open windows, fire up grills, roast marshmallows, put the boat on the water, wear flip flops. So when those small windows of time open for us, we soak them up - we go for pedicures on a Saturday afternoon to get rid of the winter rust on our feet. We open the window just a crack - just enough for the house to smell of fresh air and the cat to be happy with us - until we close them again and the heater turns back on and we cozy up under blankets at night. We buy tulips for our table to tide us over until we can place potted plants on our deck. We dream up plans just to put them on hold.

Plans like putting new grass down in the yard, building a small deck on the front of the house, de-winterizing the boat, picking up baseball uniforms for spring practice, staining the back deck, purchasing new bikes, putting fencing beside the creek.

It's funny how housework and outdoor chores can sound so fun and thrilling in March.

The book I'm reading right now is written by a lady after my own heart. A mom, a Christian, a blogger and photographer, a lover of the four seasons. I feel like she gets me but she's never met me nor heard of me, and I stumbled upon her completely by accident. Her book, Roots & Sky, tells the story of her first 12 months in her new home. She writes about the longing, the dreaming, the waiting that took place as she and her husband pictured their life in a house they had not yet found. She writes about each season during that first year, and how God met her there. She sees the beauty in the variety and the change. And for her, like me, it's not just spring that brings new life, but every season we anticipate and pass through. She tried to live life in year-round warmth and sunshine, and so missed what the rest of the seasons' patterns brought with them. And though I sit here anxiously awaiting the temperatures to warm, the wind to die down, and the flowers to bloom, I sit here knowing that I wouldn't have it any other way. I might be anxious for the change, but I'm grateful that He knew me before He knit me together. That he planted me exactly where I am, knowing I would need the melody of the seasons.

And as I sit here, I see out the kitchen window that our beloved ducks have returned to our yard to bathe in our creek. Pretty soon, I'm guessing we'll see some babies. I better make sure we have bread on hand for feeding.

Two steps forward, one step back. But we're getting there.

"...we lived a seasonal rhythm of summer festivals and winter sledding, spring baseball games and autumn apple picking. Our moments and our months were distinguished by the color of the trees, deep red or spring green, and the color of the lake, sparkling and playful in summer, menacing and dull in winter. These things were the beautiful, sometimes harsh, but always rhythmic backdrop to our days. Time was like music. It had a melody." - Christie Purifoy, Roots & Sky