Winter's Last Stand, Again

It is late at night. I’ve always been a night person. The date is May 1st. It will be May 2nd by the time I finish. A few minutes ago, ice was pelting against the window. Now, the snow is gently falling from the sky. If it were October or November the pure white snow covering the ground would be beautiful. Since it’s May, few are able to see the beauty.

May is supposed to be the month of tulips and colorful flowers on fruit trees and green grass and warm afternoons. But winter is making her last stand, again. The golfers and soccer players and gardeners have had a rough spring. Or maybe it should just be called a very long winter. The snow is coming down harder. I just saw lightning and heard thunder. It’s surreal. 

But life goes on. The cars still are travelling on Harrison Street. I just got an email. The boys will go to school in the morning. Not in shorts and a t-shirt. But pants and a winter coat. A roofer will stop by at least once tomorrow and tell me he can give me the best roof at the lowest price. And the snow will melt one last time for the season, again. 

You have probably guessed this week’s column isn’t about weather. It’s about life. Weather is a lot like life. Unpredictable. Beautiful. Challenging. Harsh. Enjoyable. Sustaining. Constantly changing. And we can’t do a darn thing about external forces. All we can do is change our reaction to the things and people which we have no control over. 

Just like winter isn’t ending—some of us seem to be in a perpetual season of winter. If we didn’t have bad luck—we wouldn’t have any luck at all. Our life has recently been defined by defeat, disease, depression, death, dysfunction, debt, and dependence. And the snow and the ice and the winds and the cold never seems to end. A few days of warmth and sunshine here and there. And then comes another blast of snow. 

My daffodils. I’m betting they will still be there in the morning. A few inches of snow isn’t going to do anything but make them a little hardier. And you are much stronger than a daffodil. And spring is coming. And summer too. Like in a few weeks. So as I go to sleep I’m grateful. For a roof over my head and a warm house. For the beauty of creation. For His grace that holds me in pain and His love that brings community, joy, and strength. And for the promise of spring – better days are ahead. Soon. 

The best is yet to come… 

Craig