The weather is in that awkward stage of changing from one season to the next. It’s struggling to become spring with warm burst of sunshine and sweet cool breezes that encourages the daffodils and crocuses to bloom and gently beckons us outside to dig in the garden or walk in the woods. And some days it does just that. But on days like today, winter’s pull is strong not wanting to give up his control. The cold wind whips and tugs at my coat as the rain pelts my face and gray claims victory over the sky. However, winter can’t win this battle; he will lose allowing spring to rise and give birth hope.
In this I have faith, it has happened for millennia. There is order in the chaos of the seasons. There is a calm after the storm. There is rebirth in the spring, growth in the summer, dying back in the fall, and dormancy in the winter.
If I trust in the natural order of nature can I also accept the order of my life? Do I rest in the knowledge that my harsh winters will give way to spring?
Do I rest in the divine order and control of God or do I fret and fight when I perceive things aren’t right? Battling with a delusional mind that believes I can conquer winter and produce spring using my strength alone.
Change is swirling around me. Winter’s darkness clawing at my spring. I stand in the storm bombarded by the winds, with hands on my hips I yell at winter with all my might. I’m in control … of nothing!
I crumble from strain weeping, defeated. Eventually, I see spring’s light radiate from an opening in the clouds and remember God’s promises. I call to Him for help and He hears me. He wraps His arms around me, lifts me up to my feet and supports me through the storm giving birth to my spring.
Debora Shelford Hobbs