Many people are eagerly anticipating Spring. Small children, gardeners, warm-weather lovers, lanscapers, normal-people-who-enjoy-decent-weather. And I used to be one of those people, opening my windows on the first day when the temperatures rose above 50° F. I have come to realize though, that because of my grief, I actually enjoyed winter. Winter just seemed fitting during that season of my grief. Desolate. Frozen. Icy and beautiful at times. A gloomy cocoon at others. I would look up at the gray-white blanket of low lying clouds and feel insulated. It was as if nature was giving me a nod and telling me it's okay to have a time of frigid slumber.
I never would have guessed in a million years that I would ever not want Spring to come, especially being prone to seasonal-affectiveness like I am. These last few weeks I have been mentally, emotionally, and spiritually preparing myself for Spring's arrival. I'm sure it's no coincidence that the most recent book I read had the following verse as it's theme:
For behold, the winter is past, The rain is over, it is gone:
The flowers appear on the earth; The time of singing is come...
(Crazy how God can use something like a novel to reach our hearts, isn't it??) I'm not sure I'm going to be doing any singing, but it will be a time of reflection and remembering. The days when we first received Olivia's diagnosis are quickly approaching, as is the day of her birth. I remember many blue skies during those days. And those same blue skies are coming again. The earth will be celebrating. The laughter of children will float through my window on warm breezes. And I....I will be missing Olivia for one full year. I will be thawing out. I will find new ways to enjoy life. I will grow and I will grow something. And hopefully by the time next winter comes, I might not enjoy it as much.
Preparing for flowers,