We had endured a winter that saw 50 inches of snow, when, finally, spring arrived, melting everything in sight. We played on the grass. We rode bikes down the road. We even started the lawnmower. The temperature was approaching 60 degrees.
Then it happened. We awoke one morning, looked out the window, and just stared in disbelief. The landscape was again covered with snow – about half an inch by my estimation.
During winter, we’re
like the resourceful farm kids
who play ball with a pig bladder.
There’s just got to be
something better, right?
I was amused, knowing the midday sun would take care of it. He, though, was distraught. He ran to his room, jumped in his bed, buried his head under his cover, and started crying. This is the same child who, three months earlier, was telling me how much he loved the snow – how living in a colder climate was “so much fun” because he could sled every day. But even he couldn’t take any more of it.
God gave us the seasons for a reason, and my son was learning that the hard way, even if he didn’t understand fully the theological ramification.
It’s no accident that God raised His Son during the time when much of the world is thawing out. Winter and spring serve as a sort of living illustration of our faith, in several ways. For instance: