Seasons. They come. They go.
When I was a little girl, I remember having the revelation that seasons we experience in nature are representative of the seasons we experience in life. Spring brings about new life and the scent of excitement and anticipation of what’s to come begins to fill the air. Summer was a time when we became free from what we were before. Pre-schoolers leave behind their crayons and embrace pencils. High schoolers leave their cozy homes to embark on a new journey to independence. We spent the summer dreaming of what’s to come while we lounged with those we loved. Once fall arrived, the transition begins to take place. Life shifts. We meet new friends. We lose touch with other friends. After only a few months, we were already caught up in our daily routines as we grumbled our way through winter and waited for the day when Spring would arrive, because we knew with certainty that despite the cold and gloomy days, spring would arrive.
There was a constant ebb and flow. But what happens when there seems to be no time for transition? What happens when your summer suddenly and unexpectedly becomes winter?
It feels as if death has lurked around corner for the last nine months. I’ve lost track of the tears, painful phone calls, and desperate prayers that our family has walked experienced as we’ve fought for our dear Abby’s life.
Waiting for a miracle is hard.
I’ve spent most of the time trying to avoid the pain and confusion. I’ve found that it’s easier to focus on my own shortcomings. My imperfect body, my failed relationships, and my future have all plagued my mind because at least I have someone to blame for those misfortunes. Because when it comes to something that feels completely out of your hands, who do you blame when you feel like you’ve done everything that you can do? Who do you blame when everything within you feels that this is all God’s fault?
When you’re taught about a God of miracles, where do you go when you feel that your prayers aren’t getting through? Thoughts begin to plague you as you wonder if He really hears us. My physical mind screams that this doesn’t make sense. My physical mind can’t comprehend how the One we call the Ultimate Healer has yet to reach His hand down to heal.
My heart begins to stir and anger, confusion, and heart ache all begin to cloud my mind. Yet at the same time, something within me stays in peace.
Sometimes the quietness of nothing happening is what reminds me that you are still close.
At night when my head lays against the pillow, everything becomes silent and loud at the same time. I can try to analyze every “why” known to man; I wouldn’t be the first. I can try to barter with you for your attention; I wouldn’t be the last. In a split second I can go from believing in your promises to questioning your existence as my head tries to grasp the answers. I finally let go.
They only lead me to a numbness.
As you watch me question everything you represent and have done for me, you still don’t hesitate to lean in with your tender whisper, “I’m right here
And my heart whispers back, “I know.”
I don’t know when Spring will come again, but I know that by the laws of nature, winter can’t last forever.