Ask anyone in the mid-northern states of the US and they’ll most likely have a favorite season. Fall is pretty popular. The colors, the leaves, the flannels, and those damn pumpkin spice candles. Ew.
People also talk about seasons of life. They’ll often accompany the word with a certain trial period where they can’t seem to get ahead. They must be going through a season.
I always looked at seasons as a type of romantic seesaw. When our favorite season is in full swing, we’re a happy participant, doing everything we can to suck the joy out of the days.
The closer we get to the end of one of our favorites, the more melancholy we become. On the contrary, the closer we are to ending one of our nemesis seasons, optimism seems to bloom.
Nevertheless, as sure as the wind, we will undoubtedly say goodbye to a season, either anxiously awaiting its return or hoping it never comes back.
And as sure as that same wind, those seasons will come back. In hope or dismay.
Seasons are accompanied by other things too. Weather. Clothing. Moods. There are endless variables associated with these changes. I think they represent life well.
A good season doesn’t last. Neither does a bad one. Both are sure to visit us again, in some form or another. As we grow older, the optics of seasons also change.
Things that we used to hate, maybe we don’t mind much anymore. Things that we couldn’t live without become things we can leave alone.
There’s something significant about the season cycle. Because of its infrequent and short visits, we find more value in the moments that exist within.
They come and go in our life, but they leave imprints, scars, and lasting memories. They leave us in years and life stages that we’ll never have back. They also promise us they’ll be around again. A reminder to hang tight.
The questions I keep asking myself lately— What is the next season bringing? Am I built for it? Can I handle what it has for me? Will it be one of the best? Will it be the worst? Will I be tested? Will I be approved? Will I fail a bunch?
The answers are unknown. And I’m okay with that.
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8