Summer, if it is hot and sunny and Winter, if it is snowy.
But, of course it cannot be too snowy; nor can it be too hot.
I also love the crispness of Fall, as long as it is just right and the promise of Spring, as long as it is not too chilly.
I like seasons on my terms. If my terms are not met, I am complain and wish for the next season to begin. I cannot control the weather nor can I control the seasons, so why do I try?
Because I am sinful, controlling and petulant. And, of course, I forget that I am not God and I am not in control.
Which brings me to this week's verse, from Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under the 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 throw 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 throw 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 ware, and a time for peace.
As I tell my children, when it is 8 p.m. and they decide they must begin building a house for their dolls out of cardboard boxes and feathers while planning a talent show and eating cookies, it is all about the appropriate time and place.
There is a time for everything.
Only, in this life season of mine, it seems there is time for nothing. Everything is a rush. Nothing is on my terms. I race from deadline to deadline to doctors appointment to bedtime to bath time to meal time to school to playdates to yoga class and all over again. The children move on "their time" and the world's time is completely unreasonable.
I need more time. But, I am not going to get it. This season of mothering is a busy one.
I love the baby phase, but if there is too much teething, I find myself wishing for preschool days. And preschool days, they are so much fun, but if there is too much whining, I find myself wishing for full days of school. And of course, those school days are magical, but when there is drama over homework, I begin to look forward to shipping them off to college.
Because I am sinful, controlling and petulant.
This season--the one I am in right now--feels like one of the most challenging of my life. I have three kids under 7. I have writing goals and clients and deadlines and classes to teach and volunteer commitments and laundry piles that rival the tallest mountains. I have one husband, who works hard and travels. And I am one woman.
I find myself yearning for every demand to cease and the summer to roll in; only to begin to realize that once summer rolls in, it will nearly be over and my kids will be one summer older and second grade will be over; preschool will be over and the baby will be a toddler.
And that makes me yearn for last summer and last Fall, for seasons that have passed.
It is a vicious cycle.
This week, I am going to work on being seasonal. I want to be fully present in the current season, so I can be here and when the next season begins, I can be in that season as well. It is more about happiness now, instead of memories later (because those will come too, but we needn't look towards those or look back wistfully).
So this week, it is nearing the end of Winter. I have three kids, all 7 and under. My current laundry pile will surely spell the end of my much abused washing machine. And my roots need to be dyed. And my eyebrows waxed.
This is my season. Tomorrow will be something else. But I am enjoying today.
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