If you read my column often, you’ve figured out I’m a glass half full kind of guy. I don’t know if my disposition is genetic or chosen. Either way, I enjoy life sunny side up. There, see? I did it again. Even with this cheery predilection, it surprises me how excited I become with each new season.
I love how summer allows our living quarters to expand onto the front porch and rear patio. Each spring, I carefully repair the screen portion of our patio doors and each spring Mollie, our dog, runs through it in hot pursuit of the neighbor’s cats. (No animals were harmed in the writing of this article). She never catches them; they do that thing cats do—scamper up the nearest tree just out of her reach. The whole thing is over in the blink of an eye and everyone settles down for the remainder of the summer—like the sheep dogs and coyotes in the Warner Brothers’ cartoon who greet each other as they punch in at a time clock before assuming their adversarial roles at the sound of the whistle. Strangely, she only chases after them once, maybe twice each spring and all but ignores them the remainder of the season. Her ears go up like radar honing devices whenever she sees them, but after that first spring dance, it’s more a sign of respect than predation.
These past couple summers, I’ve given up on even having a rear screen door and even now it rests against the shop wall, its mesh torn and hanging like the ragged uniform of a beleaguered soldier. Now we, like hillbillies, spend most days with the patio door open, sans screen—our kitchen leisured in the summer’s warm breeze. Thankfully, for whatever reason, we don’t struggle with pesky insects as you might expect. Oh sure, we host a few June bugs, swat a couple house flies and an occasional honey bee stops by for directions, but we’ve become quite accustomed to an open house during the mild days of summer.
But now that fall has settled in on us, I’m in love all over again. And I know too, when fall chills into winter and the first snow whitens the ground, I’ll involuntarily begin humming Christmas carols. I can’t help it; I enjoy all the seasons’ changes.
But before you lay this article aside and write me off as a sappy romantic, I will confess a darker underside; winter eventually wears me down. Shortly after the holidays, I risk frostbite with my nose pressed to the glass praying for any sign of spring. When guests ask, “why is he leaning against the patio door whining,” Marilyn theorizes I suffer with Seasonal Affective Disorder; SAD for short. According to her, I get moody, even grumpy shortly after the holidays.
This year as you may know, Marilyn and I acquired a new camper. As winter persists well into February, we’re seriously considering a two-to-three week southern swing. I’ll keep you posted on how that goes.
If God would have only consulted me, I would have recommended that spring blossom just after the holidays. But God hasn’t contacted me regarding this, or, now that I think about it, several other vital matters. So regardless of what the woolly worms tell you, I look for this winter to hang on too long just like it always has. If God does consult me about it you’ll be the first to know.
In the meantime, I’d suggest we lean on the Apostle Paul’s advice…
“Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life.” (Philippians 4:6-7)
Have you noticed we have very little control over the seasons of our lives? One more reason I want to encourage you to simply trust God for the outcome of all things knowing that “…in all things God works for the good of those who love him…” (Romans 8:28). So, whatever winds blow, open wide the door of trust and allow the warm breezes of heaven to grace your lives.
Read Ron’s column, Simple Faith, each Saturday on the Faith Page (page 3) of the Lancaster Eagle Gazette, or visit www.lancastereaglegazette.com.