I'm not sure why I didn't simply enjoy the current season. Maybe it's just because I was too young to appreciate the beauty of each and realize how silly it was to waste time wishing for the next thing.
How much better to take the seasons each in their turn - to see their beauty, to notice the fingerprints of the Master Artist in each.
Winter has a still, quiet beauty, bare trees stark against cloudy sky. The world sleeps, waiting peacefully beneath a blanket of snow or frost. We retreat indoors, chasing away the chill with our own blankets and steaming mugs, watching the magic of a snow globe from the windows.
After the months of waiting, spring bursts forth with green and hope and new life. The birds start singing. The trees bud and the daffodils show their sunny faces. Snow melts, a steady drip-drip-drip outside open windows.
Spring slowly gives way to summer with all its sun-drenched glory, its carefree days stretching out, one slipping gracefully into another. The bugs sing evening songs. The gardens start ripening, spilling their sun-kissed gifts into our arms. It's the time for picnics, for wading in creeks, for campfires, for grilled hot dogs and watermelon, and for bare, tanned feet.
Fall follows on summer's heels, crisp air and rich changing colors. The cold nips lightly and the trees start to give up their leaves. Evenings come sooner. Geese fly overhead, their honking telling the story of coming winter days. The gardens offer up their last and slowly turn to dry stalks, and the whole world seems to sigh for well-earned rest.
Then winter comes again, and then spring and summer and fall, year after glorious year - just like He promised it would.
And so it is with life. We have seasons. Seasons of still waiting, of new hope, of carefree fullness, of satisfied rest, all in their turn.
Oh, that we would see the beauty in each and embrace the seasons as gifts from God's very heart.
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