[picapp align=”left” wrap=”false” link=”term=tulip&iid=5228226″ src=”2/c/7/9/Flower_ac64.jpg?adImageId=11498722&imageId=5228226″ width=”234″ height=”293″ /]Spring. It’s official. Today is the first day of spring. In Minnesota, official means nothing– it’s been a cold, windy wintry day.
A few days ago it was warm, almost balmy. Not today.
Minnesota is like that with seasons, there is a lurching forward followed by a quick retreat, followed by lurch and retreat. Transition takes time, is messy. Even though the snow has melted and the lakes are almost ice free, we’re wearing winter coats and grabbing the gloves…at least today we are.
I don’t know the forecast, just know Minnesota. Spring is coming and soon again we’ll be coat-less. Although, we know the minute we box the winter boots, we’re guaranteed measurable snow–unless, of course, it is late May. This is a law, not a possibility in Minnesota.
As I reflect on this time of transition in our family’s life, I see a similar trend: lurching and retreating. A dashing ahead into what seems best, only to retreat, reflect and sometimes regret. Then another dashing ahead in promise of new ground. Ground gained is viewed in hindsight–just the way it is. In some ways, some of us are gaining, some of us aren’t. In other ways, we’re all gaining and losing…we’re all doing the lurch and retreat move.
We’re seeking God’s direction. We’re listening and trying to go. Yet, many things seem to crumble…hmmm, maybe they’re supposed to crumble. Nasty crumble, I say. Crumble isn’t comfortable.
I’m a wreck: efforts to rectify our finances slaps us in the face; Emily–our high school senior–is kissed with college admissions and scholarship dollars–jump around the house news there; Charlie–our college sophomore–keeps moving away–good grieving there, yet grieving nonetheless; Rich and I try to parent them in ways that help them fly; new possibilities call, yet so many others demand attention; how to stay with God, how to do only His will when He is silent at every turn; spreadsheet numbers dance in my head; vehicles continue to challenge the checkbook; paperwork piles clutter the counter. We lurch and retreat, we celebrate and grieve, we question and pray. Winter and spring–winter mostly…
Life is farcical, but it is ours and we embrace it. A little levity would be nice, though: sprigs of spring in this wintry mess…now that sounds lovely, oh so very lovely.
God, are you listening?