Changing Seasons

​Time has a very special way of being our friend. When encumbered by an unbearable work-load, weighted by a burdensome situation, or grieving over one of life’s many disappointments, time may drag; but even if slowly, a new day dawns. That is a promise. One season passes into the next as a winter of despair is replaced by a springtime of new hope. 
 
I remember a few years ago when a bad accident left me with two shattered arms and a long season of pain, recovery, and rehabilitation. Living through it was a nightmare. But, looking back on it, the pain and passion of the moment have faded into just one of the many memories I hold about my life. That is precisely why time is a friend. The past can lose its power to hurt. The present season is the one that demands our time and attention, stimulates our senses with joys and sorrows more vitally than yesterday’s memories, and breathes the breath of life into our being. The present also carries the promise that today is tomorrow’s memory. So even if our current season is less than a happy one, our friend time promises us that this too shall pass.
 
What about the happy times? Changing seasons mean that we cannot encase a moment, for it is only here to pass. Does time then seem to be our foe because the special evening will end, the baby will grow, the change will occur? Or could time be telling us to pay attention to the moment and to drink in the fullness of life? Time just might be saying, “Thankfully receive, gratefully partake, and joyfully relish for you will not pass this way again.” If that is time’s advice, then we have been honored with wise counsel. To ignore today while wishing for tomorrow is folly. Opportunities are wasted; memories are not made; and life is not lived.
 
Every season withholds one aspect of life while offering to us another. Snow and flowers never come together in nature. The season for the strawberries is not the season for the pumpkins and corn. The children are not out of our hair while they are in our home, but they can be out of our home while never being out of our heart. The freshness of romance ends, but love’s enduring commitment arises. The labor of building finishes in time to usher in the responsibility of maintaining. Time passes; seasons unfold; and with each, life comes new and fresh again.