Spring Has Sprung (Again)

Officially, spring starts at the spring equinox at 6:45 pm EDT (or 5:45 for those lucky enough to be living in CST). For me, spring is here.

It certainly feels like spring. I can wear shorts and not have my legs turn blue, so to me that equals spring. Plus, all those flowers and leaves will soon be blooming everywhere. My apologies to those blessed with that lovely condition known as hay fever. You will be feeling it over the next few weeks.

I love seasons. True, I love fall most of all, but I love the fact that I live where there are four distinct seasons. It reminds me that in order for there to be new life, there must first be a death of sorts. I don’t think I’d love any one season if it lasted indefinitely. Even summer would get old for me after a while. I love summer because I know that autumn is not far behind. I love autumn because I know it is a harbinger of winter. I love winter because of the promise of spring. And I love spring because I know it’s a preparation for summer.

I’ve come to trust God in each season of my life. Whether that be a season of plenty or a season of lacking, I know that the same God of summer is the God of winter. I can be content whether my cup is running over or whether I’m empty-handed (to paraphrase the Apostle Paul).

To me, the lesson of the four seasons is that it is inevitable that God’s promises will come to pass. Just as winter turns into spring, God will whatever’s bad in my life into good. Just as spring passes into summer, so God will guide me through the difficult seasons of my own life. Just as summer morphs into fall, so my God will stay present in my life through every change of weather. And just as fall becomes winter, God will stay the same as He was in the other three seasons.

So yeah, I like spring.

Being Present to the Present

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A few years ago, I bought a set of DVDs called Sunrise Earth. They are exactly what you think they are. Each program is 50 minutes of spectacular sunrises in some of the most beautiful places in the U.S., captured without any additional music or commentary. In short, the filmmakers let nature speak for itself.

I confess that I haven’t really watched any of these until very recently. I even forgot I had them.

But I rediscovered them and found myself watching the beauty of nature unfold. Instantly, I was in North Maine at Kidney Pond, watching a mother moose with her calf cavorting in the water. I could literally feel my blood pressure falling and a feeling of calm and serenity coming over me.

I confess. Too often, I don’t see the nature in front of me because I’m too focused on where I have to be on Wednesday or something coming up on Sunday. I fret and I worry about what may or may not happen in the future or what could or should have happened in the past.

I can’t change either one of those. I can choose to live in this present moment and be alive to all that God is unveiling before me. I can choose to look out my window and see the sunset (or God forbid, actually forklift myself out of bed at the ungodly crack of dawn to witness a sunrise).

I can also choose to be thankful for the moment I’m living in. I can decide that I don’t want to be so obsessed over the future and the past that I miss this present. Jesus said that tomorrow will take care of itself. And that God will take care of you when that tomorrow comes. It won’t make one bit of difference if you worry or not, because fretting over the future won’t change one iota of it.

So I’m going to continue to be a broken record and say that I want to be fully present to where God has me right now, whether it’s everything I hoped it would be or not. I can look down at empty hands and see all that I am missing out on or I can see those hands as ready to receive all that God is preparing for me in a future that is so much bigger and wilder than anything I could ever dream of on my own. It’s all about my perspective.

It’s my choice. It’s your choice, too.

 

Wednesday Thoughts

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I got another sneak peek of autumn. It was warm, but not too much, with no humidity and just the tiniest hint of frost in the air. I loved it.

I drove home listening to a Billie Holiday CD. It was in fact the same CD that I lost in my transition from Memphis to Nashville almost 9 years ago. Her voice always takes me to a soothing happy place. It’s sad that her own life was so tragic and filled with heartaches and poor choices.

I took my iPad to the Apple Store because the Big Honkin’ Button hasn’t been working right. And no, that’s probably not the name that the Apple tekkies use, but it works for me. Anyhow, THAT button can be stubborn and not always do what I want. Imagine that.

It turns out I can either trade in this iPad for partial credit toward a new iPad or learn to bear with the Big-Honkin’-and-Sometimes-Annoying-Button. I chose option #2 as it was the affordable option.

I’m thinking about all the celebs we’ve lost so far in 2014: Philip Seymour Hoffman, James Garner, Mickey Rooney, Shirley Temple, Lauren Bacall, and Robin Williams.

I still can’t imagine being in a place where death seems like the only option. Then again, I’ve never struggled with clinical depression. I do know that it’s not something you can just “snap out of,” but a real chemical imbalance. A broken brain is just as broken as any broken foot or arm or leg. You just can’t see it.

I also know that you never know the secret battles that others are facing. I can look down on a Philip Seymour Hoffman who overdosed or a Robin Williams who hung himself with his own belt. But who knows how I would have fared under similar circumstances? Maybe I would have done far worse.

So yeah, it was nice outside. Too nice to not take a little time, roll down the windows, and breathe in the air. I may not have everything I want but I do have everything I need and then some. I am blessed.

Radner Lake and Henry David Thoreau

image When was the last time you paused and stood absolutely still and silent for one minute? When was the last time you went to a place of solitude and did nothing more than listen to the quiet? I walked my favorite trail at Radnor Lake State Park again today. Even after so many times, it still feels like I’m leaving Middle Tennessee for Middle Earth. I feel like I could be Frodo Baggins out for a hike in the Shire. image When I stood still, I could hear nature all around me. Leaves rustling, birds singing, wind humming. Even myself thinking. I think God speaks loudest to me in the quiet. When I’m still and my brain isn’t racing with 9,956 tabs open at the same time. Like He did with Elijah, God often chooses to speak through a still, small voice that won’t compete with all the noise and clamor around us. image I can hear that Voice when I’m at Radnor Lake and when I’m sitting in St. Paul’s Episcopal Church or when I’m laying in bed late at night. I confess I’m still not very good at listening. I’m still too impatient and easily distracted. If I try to be still, immediately I think of something I need to do or a note I need to write. Complete stillness is so unnatural for me. For all of us.

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I need to get out more. And by out, I mean to these quiet places with no flashing neon lights or constant noise. Sometimes I think I could be like Mr. Thoreau and find myself a Walden Pond to visit for a while. Yeah, that’d be nice.

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