Is Winter Over Yet?

Some of you know that I am not a fan of winter. I like the part in December where we get Christmas and New Year’s Eve. I even like the first few weeks into January and February, but after that I’m over being cold and having to scrape my car’s windshield in the morning.

I’m the same way with summer. I like summer through the 4th of July and a few weeks past that, but at a point I start longing for fall. Fall is still my absolute favorite, with spring falling behind into second place.

One annoying aspect of Winter is how it pretends to go away, but doesn’t really. Already, there have been a couple of sneak previews of spring, but then in a day or two it gets rainy and cold again. Typically when I take the lining out of my rain jacket, I can predict that the temperatures will plummet again.

I know the groundhog didn’t see his shadow, so theoretically that means spring comes early. But winter isn’t ready to let go. Winter really wants to have the last word. But I think we’d all agree at this point that the song from Frozen applies — winter just needs to “let it go.”

The reason spring isn’t my favorite season is that along with warmer weather come all forms of pollen, mold, and dust that don’t like my sinuses. Or my sinuses don’t like them. I think the feeling is mutual.

Also, all those bugs that have been napping all winter wake up and want to get all up in your business right away. Plus, this year two different kinds of cicadas will be invading the land. I get that insects are an important part of the circle of life, but I wish they could be important somewhere away from me rather than constantly flying in my face all the time.

But every season serves a purpose, as it says in Ecclesiastes. Winter, spring, summer, and fall all have a part in God’s creation. I may not like them all equally, but I can appreciate each one and find the good in each season. Then I can really celebrate fall and bust out all my flannel all over again . . . in about seven months or so.

On a Rainy Good Friday

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I drove home in a monsoon. Or it felt like a monsoon to this Middle Tennessean. The picture above is a fairly accurate depiction of what I saw through my own windshield– not much at all– as I motored down the interstate. Twice, a passing car splashed a lot of water on my car and I literally couldn’t see anything for a few seconds that felt a lot longer than a few seconds. I gripped the steering wheel, prayed hard, and kept going.

I think I even passed through a small amount of hail, which I can safely say with almost 98% certainty was a first for me. I’ve never seen so many cars pulled over to the side of the road under overpasses to wait out the deluge. But I trudged onward, slowly and cautiously.

I was nervous, but not panicky. I figured that God was more than able to get me through the rain and it had to let up sooner or later. No rain, literal or figurative, can last forever.

On another Good Friday, there wasn’t a whole lot of sunshine. It was both literally and metaphorically one of the darkest days in the history of humanity. Jesus had breathed His last on the cross and they had taken Him down to be buried in a borrowed tomb.

I can read about it knowing the rest of the story, but for those living it in real time, they had no idea that a resurrection was coming. Those disciples who had fled during Jesus’ arrest had witnessed the crucifixion from afar. Or maybe they hid out and received reports from those who were there, Either way, they had seen their world end.

I’ve been there. I’ve been in places that felt like dead ends and wondered how I would ever get back.

But Easter is about a God who knows the way out of the grave. And though it may be Friday, Sunday’s comin’!