It felt like all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the interior of my car when I got into it one day after work this week. I actually struggled for breath for a couple of minutes until the A/C kicked in (I realized later that I could have simply rolled down the windows for a few minutes). The effect reminded me of a similar but opposite experience when we lived in Minnesota. The long walk in January to the parking garage at work was also a suck-the-breath-out-of-you experience. By the end of the seven winters we lived there, I could instantly tell you the temperature within five degrees, depending on whether it hurt to breathe or the moisture in my nose instantly froze. It’s a skill I never want to need again.
Ironically, I hated the first day of summer in Minnesota, as that’s when the days started getting shorter…it was a tangible reminder of what was to come. I no longer hate the first day of summer or any other day. We’re back to four seasons from barely more than two, and I don’t mind any of them. They each have their merits: spring’s reawakening of life; summer’s outdoor memories and garden goodies; fall’s melancholy beauty; even winter’s chill is necessary to set a proper holiday mood. I have the strange feeling that God has given us the rhythm of the seasons for more than just their natural outcome of the Earth’s orbit and tilt. Something about a cycle of growth and rest seems to have a lesson in it. Heaven knows the parallel to our own life cycle is uncanny. But I enjoy the change and blessings the seasons bring, even without their deeper meaning. Even when the heat takes my breath away–it’s a reassuring reminder that things always plow on.
“When the seasons shift, even the subtle beginning, the scent of a promised change, I feel something stir inside of me. Hopefulness? Gratitude? Openness? Whatever it is, it’s welcome.” –Kristin Armstrong