Spring Fever…

Well, today is the day. The first day of spring. According to the calendar, that is. The weather, not so much.

Here in Chicago, spring’s big beginning means 16 degrees. Halfway to above freezing and a long way from fun. At least the sun is shining, though. That’s what I try to tell myself anyway. A reminder that it could still be worse.

I’ve come to realize it’s a lot like life, the waiting. Sometimes we’re stuck in winter and even though spring is on the horizon, we’re forced to feel the gloom and fight for our happiness. A lot like literal seasons, these less than ideal periods of life lead to a deeper appreciation of the better days, the warmth. Out of gray and into blue, we bust out of bitter and run to beautiful.

It’s hard to take someone on a tour of a place you haven’t been yourself. I know winter because I’ve experienced winter. Pain. Waiting. Storm clouds overhead. But I’ve also known spring. Light breaking through darkness. Refreshment. Cleansing rain. It’s somehow comforting to have people who are in it with us, those who have been there themselves. Standing on the other side, they beckon us forward. Glimpses of sunlight, encouragement.

But sometimes the hard winter hangs on. Spring betrays us. Trials linger and we’re lost in the valley. Here, we remember the words of the Saints. James telling us to count our trials as joy, gifts. Peter calling us to rejoice in the midst of our grief. We’re not to try and escape the hardship prematurely, for then the work will not be done. Spring takes time.