Seasons

I think God is brilliant.

I could end there, and probably should. But in a feeble way, I'll stumble on to explain just how brilliant He is.

After closing JP's, I come home exhausted. Unfortunately, in order to keep up on the closing duties at work, my mind must be sharp and aware. It runs through checklists for 4 hours straight; and when I get home, regardless of the ache and tiredness that my body carries, it takes a while to unwind. Usually, I open the fridge, look at the nothingness that's there, and then proceed to the living room to catch up on American Idol or House. It's fairly routine. Sometimes, I'll creep into Jackson's room to cover him up or get tomorrow's (necessary!) coffee ready to brew. But mostly, the hour or two I spend after work is my blessed waste of time; the only time in the week I feel is designated for me to waste.

Tonight, however, I noticed our bedroom light on as a turned into our driveway. When this (rarely) happens, "Josh is up!" instantly pops into my mind and I become giddy and even more alert. This has been a season of our lives where Josh and I sometimes see each other only in passing. Date night occurs about once a month (and our last date night consisted of watching a movie in our cozy basement while I passed out 30 minutes into it). We also have many people in our house at this time in our lives, which mostly has been a blessing; but, you never know at any given hour how many in-laws will be in our home. Even when we could be alone, we normally aren't. When Josh and I sneak any quality time together, we forget how it feels. And it feels great.

I collapsed on the bed next to him and we caught up on the evening. "How was Roo? Did you give him a bath? What time did he go to bed? Did he eat his supper? Did you play? Did you read books?" I insist on every detail of their nights together, even though I'm sometimes thrilled to be out and elsewhere. And after Josh's "How was work?" question routine, we just laid there, looking at each other. It felt strange.

If you've been living on another planet, you might not know that Josh and I have been on a diet for 2 months and he has lost nearly 30 pounds. He looks incredible. Perhaps that is why I couldn't stop looking at his face tonight: it looked different! But, I was mostly looking at his eyes like I did when we were dating. We had the dating relationship that involved eye-gazing, face-studying, long french-kissing, intense glaring, and...when we were inspired...even poem-writing. It was our dramatic ways of expressing one very simple and obvious thought to each other: "I adore you."

This tunneling back to our college days got me thinking about seasons. When we do the "I miss you" routine, especially when we REALLY, really mean it, I am suddenly and surprisingly reassured that it won't be this way forever. Whatever time we're in right now is not going to stay this way. Our children will grow, our mindset will widen, our priorities and perspectives will shift so greatly that we almost won't recognize our lives or even ourselves. This is how I felt tonight, rubbing my face against my flannel pillowcase and looking at Josh: I can't believe the little fraction of a lifetime we have spent together so far has already weathered so many seasons.

It's interesting that this thought hit me on a day where I prematurely began raking the last of the Fall leaves that had been dead and frozen for months in my yard. Seasons. Today was also the day I stumbled across a picture of me from Jack's 1st birthday and...almost literally...didn't recognize myself. Yes, I was bigger then and trying very hard to pretend I wasn't, but I mostly didn't even recognize the spirit in me that the camera somehow captured. Even the smallest camera lens picked up on my isolation, confusion, and frustration I was trying to piece my life together so badly when, in reality, I was an unfinished, discombobulated puzzle. Seasons. And thankfully, seasons change.

I can't believe, knowing what I know about God, that the use of metaphor is unintentional on His part. Or perhaps I like to find it because I'm an English teacher. Still, it's obvious to me how cyclical and yet surprising God is. Our universe has both rhythm and design that is as fascinatingly intricate as our souls. And it also has surprises that keep our lives interesting and give us character. The same window box that held packed snow outside my living room is now holding dirt and seed. It's all a season, and it's particularly helpful to realize that even in the darkest of times, nothing lasts forever except His faithfulness. It will change, we will grow, circumstances will shift both slightly and dramatically. And all of this is because God is brilliant. He's an artist and uses seasons in our lives to fulfill a critical purpose. And when He's done, the snowflakes stop falling, clouds eventually part, and a new dawn arrives.

I don't know what season I'm entering, but I do know that many storms have settled behind me. I continue to struggle with my first year of motherhood and how doubtful I was that I would ever make an exodus out of that season of my life. But God has been faithful, restoring what was wounded and broken and giving me hope and a strong sense of divine direction.

I'm going to put my head back on my flannel pillowcase, thankful for the man breathing (too loudly) next to me and the seasons he has walked through with me. And thankful for a brilliant God who allows my hardships and turns them into sweet, seasonal victories.