spring
On our patio, ragged outlines of dirt leftover from the duststorm, then slush and snowfall last weekend remind me that the winter season still lingers. We are into March, but the season of shorter days, sharp winds and days indoors seems resistent to change. Even my mind has grown sluggish, feeling that the days somehow have melded into monotony. I fight against the inertia, scribbling down thanksgiving by the threes in my gratitude journal, not because I feel like it, but because I know that this is what keeps my heart alive during the grey season.
Does it ever feel like some things will never change?
When the baby continues to wake at night, when I've had a child in diapers for almost ten years, when I'm ready to call it quits with homeschooling...when acclimation to life in the Middle East seems so slow, when I mourn...when...when?
"Can we play outside today, Mom?" My oldest asks, his eyes shining.
The weather forecast calls for sun. There is not a cloud in the sky. I walk out onto the patio, still fringed with dirt, mud and corners of wetness. A quiet, warm breeze whispers, hope.
Then my tall girl shouts, "Mom, look! Cherry blossoms!"
I'm confused. It's not spring yet, surely...I look to the small patch of trees growing stubbornly in the thick clay soil. Yes, they are blooming. And when I have the chance, I will take a picture and post it on this blog. The peach and plum trees have begun to bring out their best: tender white and pink blossoms that have surprised us this spring by coming so quietly, so quickly in the wake of an unusually wet and cold winter in Amman.
The buds dance along the branches and so do my girls in this afternoon of discovery, of change.
Just when you think that things will never change...
I am gently reminded that to all things there is a season.
And before I know it, my baby will be a toddler, my children will not need me as much as before and by His grace, all hurts will be healed, for love does cover a multitude of sins, and what is best is to enjoy each moment for what He is.
soli deo gloria
Does it ever feel like some things will never change?
When the baby continues to wake at night, when I've had a child in diapers for almost ten years, when I'm ready to call it quits with homeschooling...when acclimation to life in the Middle East seems so slow, when I mourn...when...when?
"Can we play outside today, Mom?" My oldest asks, his eyes shining.
The weather forecast calls for sun. There is not a cloud in the sky. I walk out onto the patio, still fringed with dirt, mud and corners of wetness. A quiet, warm breeze whispers, hope.
Then my tall girl shouts, "Mom, look! Cherry blossoms!"
I'm confused. It's not spring yet, surely...I look to the small patch of trees growing stubbornly in the thick clay soil. Yes, they are blooming. And when I have the chance, I will take a picture and post it on this blog. The peach and plum trees have begun to bring out their best: tender white and pink blossoms that have surprised us this spring by coming so quietly, so quickly in the wake of an unusually wet and cold winter in Amman.
The buds dance along the branches and so do my girls in this afternoon of discovery, of change.
Just when you think that things will never change...
I am gently reminded that to all things there is a season.
And before I know it, my baby will be a toddler, my children will not need me as much as before and by His grace, all hurts will be healed, for love does cover a multitude of sins, and what is best is to enjoy each moment for what He is.
soli deo gloria
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