Yesterday in Texas was a glorious day. It was in the 70’s, sunny and, best of all, the Bradford pear trees had just started to blossom - there was a thin frosting of white blossoms on these shapely trees, a sure sign that spring was here. I was ecstatic! The contrast of how I felt yesterday compared to the previous three weeks was stark. I realized that I had been in a blue mood for a couple of weeks. Not an indigo blue but a pale sky-blue mood, not really depressed but just not my usual chipper self. The bright sunshine and the first harbinger of spring cheered me up.
Perhaps because these flowering trees are the first sign of new life in springtime, I have a visual love affair with Bradford pear trees. The elementary school near my home has pear trees in the parking lot, lit from above by street lights. In early spring, I always make a special trip after dark to see the trees there because they look like luminous vanilla ice cream cones. One spring when the kids were young, I took them there, parked the car under a tree and we poked our heads out of the car’s sunroof to touch the blossoms. All of us remember it as an magic night.
I was going to write today about renewal and rebirth and the glory of springtime.
But I was too depressed this morning to write, because a very large storm blew through last night, bringing freezing rain and the possibility of snow later today. It’s been gray, rainy, windy, raw and cold all day. By noon, I was so depressed that I cried.
Well, there is an obvious, perhaps hackneyed, analogy to capricious springtime weather, and even though it is overused, I need to remember this lesson myself: Life brings us figurative gray and stormy days - sometimes many of them in a row. The trick for me is to remember that spring always comes eventually. I would be a lot happier if I could simply wait patiently and expectantly for it. My tears, pouts and protests do not make spring come any faster, just as arguing, resisting or fighting with the reality of my experience does not improve the situation. My challenge is to dance with all life experiences with grace and ease, with expectation of good things to come and with the knowing that I rest in God’s arms.
That is easier to write than do. That is my struggle.