When crocuses push through wet dirt, standing tall underneath a waking sun, we’re quick to be grateful for this season of life. But when the pewter clouds sink heavy in the sky, ushering in brittle winds, it’s not as easy to bow our heads in worship, thanking Mother Nature for her melancholic weather.
For months on end, it seems we’re stuck in a season of grieving. Dull, bleak, stagnant. The weather hangs heavy on us, mirroring our personal discontent. Frozen ground and bitter air dictate we stay inside.
We could decide to hate the season of winter, especially in the Midwest. Or we could choose to celebrate it, accepting the cold months for exactly what they are.
If spring is a time to bloom and inspire change, and summer a time to explore and engage, and autumn a time to harvest and gather, then winter is a time to rest and recharge.
But it’s too difficult to rest and recharge in a society that tells us our worth is measured by our productivity. Rest is sinful. And the guilt you feel when you indulge in a cozy night in is warranted.
Except, it’s not.
While perennial plants lie dormant under hardened ground, we still expect our bodies to grow tirelessly, forever reaching toward the sun. While enormous beasts sleep inside caves, their heavy bodies rationing energy, we still expect to run the race that has no finish line. All of nature takes this time to slow down. Yet we stare out the foggy windowpanes, questioning our value during moments of idleness.
If only we could see that every season is worth celebrating. Every mighty wind, every howling storm, every sprinkle of dew, every burning ray of sunshine. And every chapter of life. The chapter in which we scale corporate mountains, arriving at the top successfully, is just as worthy as the chapter in which we spend our days chasing toddlers, accomplishing nothing but having changed a few soiled diapers. The chapter in which we are dizzy in love and the chapter in which we wallow in grief all are woven together seamlessly in the end, creating a rich and fulfilling life, filled with joy and sorrow.
Every chapter—every season—teaches us something, whether sunshine or tempests.
Your bleak, wintry season might seem like it’s lasting longer than nature intended. But just remember: soon the season will change, and seeds planted months ago will finally begin to sprout from the dirt, blooming into the most beautiful flower you’ve ever seen. And soon after, that flower will wilt just the same. For that is one absolute truth.
Seasons can be long, but seasons change. And every season is worth celebrating.