Seasoned

For a little while in college, I had a strong desire to move to California.  I had a lot of friends from the southern part of the Sunshine State who told me of their magical land where it is sunny and in the mid-60's year round.  Being from Ohio, I'd grown up hearing "If you don't like the weather, wait five minutes."  I had waited twenty-something years and still didn't like the weather.  One miserable winter day, I told my mom about my California dream.

Her response:  "People who live without seasons don't live in reality."  I love my mother, but she is a murderer of dreams. (Or resurrect-er of Truth, as she prefers it.)

In any case, per the norm, she was right in a way.  Obviously people who live in California and other parts of the world that have perpetually glorious weather face reality in their own ways, but it's different for those of us who experience all the seasons.

Not only do we face all four seasons, but sometimes we face them all in one week.  It could be 80 degrees and muggy in the morning and 50-something and wet by mid afternoon.  It could be 75 and sunny one day, and snowing the next.  There are tornadoes and floods and blizzards and ice storms and weeks of seemingly endless rain.  Yes, it's miserably unpredictable.  Yes, the pollen might kill you.  Yes, the humidity will negate any and all products you have used in your hair.  But this is reality.

November snow.

The reality is that life happens, just like weather happens, and sometimes it's out of our control.  We are weathered and worn, and no one makes it out alive.  But without the storms, we wouldn't recognize the sunshine.  The bitter cold winds of winter make the muggy 90 degree days feel like a welcome warm hug.  We learn that tornado and flood warnings usually only mean breezy thunderstorms and big puddles.  Partly cloudy means the sky will likely be a gray canvas of claustrophobic misery for the next two or three days, but when the sun finally does shine again, we will appreciate it that much more.

I've heard that in order to learn how to accept God's will for our lives, we should first learn to accept the weather.  That's QUITE the challenge in the Ohio valley, but I'm learning.  I'm beginning to realize that rather than be bitter toward the ever-changing climate, I should learn from it.  It makes me stronger.  It keeps me on my toes.  It makes life interesting and spicy.

Today as I walked out to my car to go to work in the early morning darkness, I shivered for the first morning in more than a week. I gave the sky the stink-eye and said, "Really?  I was really enjoying those muggy, 80 degree hugs!  Are we back to this already?!"  Then I sighed and shrugged, because it doesn't really matter.

Even if I can't see the sun, I know that it is still shining above the clouds.  Whatever the weather, God is still Good.  He is the Author of all life, and He made life to be full of seasons:  growth, death, purification, and rebirth.

The really good news?  He makes all things NEW.