“New seasons of life are often birthed in the midst of a storm.” Beth Warner
This past week has been a rough one for me. I will never completely understand how one solitary hour can create such havoc in my life. Last weekend we sprang our clocks forward sacrificing one hour of sleep, but gaining an hour of daylight.
I always look forward to the time change and what it represents. It’s like an official proclamation of spring. I love the longer days even though it takes me about a week to completely adjust to the change. Even though I always find myself tired and dragging, my fatigue is usually offset by longer days with more sunshine.
This year, the time change was followed by days of rain. It was dark outside as I sat at my kitchen table before work and it was cold, gray and pouring down rain on my way home. There were no walks after work. There was no extra daylight, just longer days that were dark and dreary.
On Thursday, when I headed to work, not only was it raining, but there was talk of severe weather. I was definitely already riding on the struggle bus as I trudged across the street, but when I got to my building and reached into the pocket of my raincoat to grab my mask, it was gone.
“Just great!” I grumbled.
I knew there was probably a spare in my purse, but my hands were full and it was raining. I pulled my jacket over my mouth and nose and darted in, hoping no one would see me and once again, cursing Covid. When I got to my desk, I was able to dig out a mask, which was a good thing because I suppose I wouldn’t have been able to go to the restroom all day without one.
As I sat there, waiting for my computer to boot up, frustrated, annoyed and quite frankly, overwhelmed, I received a notification from Facebook. Now, I have no idea why Facebook seems to randomly let me know when different people have posted, and I often ignore the buzzing phone, but a gentle nudge told me to take a look, so I did.
Beth, a friend of mine who is a farmer, and makes it her mission to see God in every place and every circumstance, had posted a picture of a chicken on a fence under the same dreary skies I was experiencing and grumbling about. Yet, she saw something different.
Her caption was, “Watching the skies, listening for the howling winds, ducking the rainstorms, praying against tornadoes…Springtime is not just about pretty blossoms, newborn lambs and balmy weather. New seasons of life are often birthed in the midst of a storm.”
She was right of course and her wise words sank deep into my weary soul. I sat there for a moment, thinking of all the forces that were in play for me to see that post at exactly that time and I was overwhelmed by the goodness of God, so much so that I felt led to share.
A social media post from a friend reminded me that new beginnings often come from stormy seasons. Perhaps you needed reminding too.
Have an awesome day!
Wendy 😊