Seasons

I’ve lived in several cities around the world in different climates and one thing I always miss is Virginia seasons. And I’ve realized I don’t have a favorite season because I always reach a point when I have grown weary in the current season and am ready for the next. Then the new season commences and life is beautiful and exciting again. And that’s when I start saying things like, “Oh, I just love how God works rhythms and seasons into our lives so we don’t grow weary in the mundane and to show us that change is good” and then I sigh contently. But, sometimes I get a hint that change is coming and I get antsy, impatient. Like right now, Starbucks has pumpkin spice, the nights aren’t as long or hot, even the breeze feels different. And I know fall is right there, but not quite. This anticipation can be good or it can be debilitating. Even though I feel ready for the change that the next season brings, I have to realize that this moment, with its sticky air and bugs and ripe strawberries, is exactly as it should be. And I don’t want to miss one long summer night on the back porch because I’ve dismissed this season too soon. This season will end. Fall will arrive and bring with it a whole new set of joys and struggles. But, yet, today it is summer and everything is lush and beautiful. Even in the stickiness of this afternoon, there is a whisper in the occasional breeze that change is coming. And it will be good.