Sarah D. Shearer

I said something yesterday, something I’m  not sure I meant. I  had rushed into the hallmark store to escape the sudden onslaught of dreary winter rain. While I was mindless browsing through the jewelry, the proprietor made a dull comment about the weather. I (too) cheerfully responded, “I love the rain,  because it brings the cold! And I love the cold!” He harrumphed, and said, I can’t wait for summer. I hate the cold. Again, too cheerfully, I said, and this might have been the lie, “I love whatever season I’m in.”

Do I really? Do I love the seasons of harvest, of  bounty, where it’s good vibes and good times, do I love those days, and do I love the dead of winter, where I am having my own personal snow storm in the midst of my friend’s perfect, endless summer?

Do I love the seasons of painful, spring growth, where I am stretched beyond my limits, forced into the sun, forced to grow, forced to change?

Do I love the seasons of unanswered prayers just as I love the seasons when the rain falls plentifully and it’s frightfully easy to say, “Lord, you are good!”

Do I love feeling the endlessness of dreary gray days as I look outside my window to see my friends skating gleefully without me?

Do I really count it all joy? Do you?

This is my goal. To be unshakeable, immovable in my joy, no matter the temperature or the  heaviness of the garments I must wear. To be ready, in season and out of season, to help others, to serve others, to find joy in my heart for others receiving the blessings of the season I wish I was in.

My times are in your hands Lord. You have me in just the season you want me to be. Because your love is better than life, I will have  joy, rain or shine.