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


About Kelly J. McCleary

Wife and mother of three, author, financial professional View all posts by Kelly J. McCleary

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