I’ve developed a pet peeve over the last six months to a year. I can’t stand people who complain about the weather constantly. Bewailing the temperature or what is falling from the sky seems to be the only status update some post on Facebook. Seriously, there were a few who almost got unfriended over the winter.
My critique is not so much against others, though, as it is against myself. I have been guilty of this type of lamentation, and always hate myself for complaining once the words escape my mouth. So for approximately the same mount of time I have made a purposeful effort not to complain about the weather and find the silver lining in each rainy day and the beauty in each season, learning to be content with what I have now rather than wishing for some future time to come or to be in some alternate location.
All of that said, while I’ve been trying to keep my complaining mouth shut, Michigan’s last few rainy, cold days have really started getting to me. I don’t want to be in the grey, damp, cold anymore. I want sunshine and beaches and warmth. But alas, Mo and I have no bright vacations on the itinerary any time soon. (We were in California a couple of weekends ago on GYC business, so I shouldn’t complain too much, though the trip likely contributed to my longings for late spring to just-hurry-up-and-get-here-already!)
Over the lunch hour today, I checked the weather. There is a 100% chance of snow tomorrow. Yup, snow. Not unheard of in April, but still, it’s April. Yet as I left the office this afternoon, I also accepted as true something that first started occurring to me over the last week or so. Spring is springing despite the cold and rain. Probably because of the rain. Do I hear doubts from my fellow Michiganders? Consider this: I’ve noticed red buds on trees–maybe redbud trees?! (A Google image search produced inconclusive results.) There are microscopic green leaves on bushes. Shoots sprouting out of the ground, promising the soon arrival of daffodils and tulips. And I’m only having to scrape frost off my windshield in the morning once a week instead of one or two times a day.
While I may not have acknowledged it, the world around me recognizes that spring is here and is responding appropriately. There is a subtle beauty to these earliest revelations of the season of new birth. I’m thankful to have stopped long enough to appreciate the changes around me.
Because of that I can hang on through (hopefully) one last snowfall. The fact that it is supposed to be 70º with a 0% chance of precipitation on Sunday helps!
“From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts out its leaves, you know that summer is near. So also, when you see all these things, you know that He is near, at the very gates.” Matthew 24:32-22 (ESV).