I was reading a book for class recently and the author was talking about the seasons of life. I have written about the season of winter before, but I have a slightly different perspective on it.
I once believed that as a season of life, winter was harsh and cruel. Full of ice, cold, and hardship, I never thought about what it could bring.
The author of this book says that winter clears the landscape of our life and gives us a chance to see ourselves and the circumstances of life more clearly. We get rid of the clutter to find the ground.
The winter is necessary. Spring is a season of re-growth, but without winter and what it brings, new growth cannot happen. The ground will not clear and the last few stubborn leaves will not fall without a push. Winter, in an area where snow (or other precipitation) falls can be beautiful. Have you ever walked outside after a fresh snowfall? Nothing has disturbed the fresh snow, the trees are thick with snow, and everything glitters.
I look at the life my Grandmother had. After she died, I was looking through her family Bible and I saw that she had written something along the lines of, "farming has not been what I expected. It is the opposite and quite a disappointment." My Grandma could have seen her life as a season of winter; harsh, cold, and brutal. And I'm sure for a while that she did. But she and my biological grandfather pushed through and did what they could to provide for their family of ten. I look at my family, my aunts and uncles, and see that something beautiful came from the winters. Sure, sometimes I think my whole family is a little crazy and they don't always get along, but they're my family and it's not that hard to see past the crazy.
P. Palmer says, "the winters will drive you crazy until you learn to get out into them." I think about that statement and my Grandmother's death. I was going crazy and didn't know how to push through that winter season in my life (and quite honestly, I'm not sure I still do), but I've learned beautiful things through this season. Yes, I was devastated when she died, but then I look at all of the stories she told me about her life and I piece that together with what my dad has told me. I have never learned more about my history. The ice is thawing, replenishing the earth with water necessary for survival. I look at her death now and choose to focus on her life.
So while some may say that summer or autumn or even spring is their favorite season, I prefer to think about the beauty of getting to have a winter season.
