Seasons don’t always unfold according to expectations. Sometimes they appear confused. Several years ago, a week long streak of 90 degree days burst through the chilly early March days. My family went rummaging through our drawers to bring out the shorts and t-shirts. We enjoyed the summer temperatures and the refreshment from the cold dreary days of winter.
However, the seemingly seasonal mix ups have also not been as welcomed as much as “summer” interrupting winter. Almost every year, the signs of spring emerge in early April. Bright colors sprout up dotting the landscape. The anticipated signs of life that have been developing behind the scenes show themselves. We tell ourselves to hold on for a few more weeks. But unexpectedly, a late snowstorm transforms the view out our windows. Color is covered in white. Winter coats still hang up near the door. What season is this?
Currently, I feel as if I am in the midst of a metaphorical seasonal mix up. By all appearances, summer is here. The warm air abounds. Colorful blooms decorate my sphere. I see images of people doing their summertime things. It is my favorite season. Truthfully, my phone holds images of my favorite places that I glance at to get through those long days of late winter. Basking under the sun while listening to the soundtrack of surf brings me joy. It’s something I do often. Not only does it calm my soul but it connects me to my roots.
Yet, my seasons feel mixed up. After sustaining severe injuries in a car accident in May, I feel as if I am living in winter. My plans for summer changed. I am not yet able to frolic in the summer activities that bring me refreshment. Impromptu travel to new or familiar places cannot happen on my own. Waterparks are not an option. And, until recently, walking outside to my porch could not happen unassisted. In some ways, it feels like I am still waiting for summer to arrive.
Each day, I see glimpses. that my winter interruption is giving way to summer. Physical endurance is increasing and I have more mobility. I can read a book on my porch in the warm summer evenings. Socializing looks different but can still happen. Keeping my eyes on the sprouts of new life developing behind the scenes in my body brings me hope. The things I love will be possibilities soon. Honestly, I wish I could have a longer summer. However, God is in all seasons. Even the interruptions that make no sense. Summer just unfolded differently this year.
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