It happened — Michigan thawed!
Today I went outside and looked at the flower bed where I had planted bulbs last fall and — bam! — the beginnings of daffodils and tulips were breaking the surface! I went for a walk with my dog with nothing more than a light jacket on — no hat, no gloves, no parka! I came home and opened the windows in my kitchen and my bedroom. Now, as I type I can hear the sounds of students chatting as they walk past, I can feel a cool breeze on my bare arms, I can smell Spring.
Now granted, if I still lived in St. Louis, I would have been writing this over a month ago, but, hey, a girl has to celebrate when she can! I will still be celebrating in July when it is merely 80 degrees here instead of the 90-100 degrees that I would have been experiencing in St. Louis. Yes, it was a bleak and frigid winter, but we made it through!
I can’t help but think, as I observe the object lesson that is my life, that this Spring thaw is a reminder that, like the bleak and frigid winter, the other dismal seasons of life are temporary. You know, the season you had that broken leg, or the season when you were in high school, or the season when you had three children under the age of five, or the season when you couldn’t find a job? These seasons, like the long cold winters of Michigan, come and they go.
But we don’t always believe that. There was a day in the middle of January when we had so much snow that even the University of Michigan cancelled classes. It was impossible to get out of our parking lot, let alone onto the streets. As I peered out my window at the plows desperately trying to clear paths, I couldn’t imagine a day like today when all the snow would be gone and Chester and I would be walking happily side by side. Last year as I lay in bed, exhausted after a long day at work, I couldn’t imagine a time when I would work on a project all morning, go to lunch with a friend, take a walk with my dog, and then come home to plan a lesson for a student I would see later in the afternoon. But that is what happened today. Years ago as I worked through recovery from an eating disorder I couldn’t imagine being in a healthy and satisfying marriage, parenting four children, earning a Master’s degree, holding a teaching position, or becoming a grandmother. But, guys, all those things have happened.
So today, I drink in the sunshine and smell the freshness in the breeze. I remember that Winter will come again, but it won’t last forever. It will be followed by Spring. Sorrow may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning.
Song of Songs 2:11
See the winter is past, the rains are over and gone;
Flowers appear on the earth, the season of singing has come.