The Ache for Spring and the Process of Waiting

Image: Four Seasons Print, ErinJane Illustrations

About this time every year, my house begins to feel cold and dusty and the novelty of winter is no longer novel. Today, I drove to work and noticed three-week-old snow still on the ground, trounced with mud, and patches of grass that were matted and weepy. My mind wanders away from the chilly recesses of the present to the warm peaks of summer-late still-sunny evenings over a feast of shrimp, fish, and fresh vegetables; relaxing afternoon dips in the pool; a casual morning walk to the store.

I long for those bright and beautiful sunsets, hours spent in the sunshine, and meals shared al fresco. But for now, they remain an abstraction. In the dearth of winter, we are reminded, perhaps more than ever, of the need for rebirth. The mustard-tinted tulips have long ago wilted, the trees have shed their coverings, and the birds have mostly shifted towards warmer climes. Here, we wait, and long for what cannot yet be. Our hearts grow weary with the days that darken all-too-early, and our creative spirits wane amidst the memories of faded oases. Oh beauty of new buds, blooming fruit trees, and warm air, where are you?

At times, we wonder if spring will ever come or if we'll be trapped under a soporific blanket of coats, gloves, and scarves forever. My eyes mist slightly as I feel the weight of expectations unrealized, loved ones distant, and evenings lonely. Deep in my soul, I yearn for the warmth and hospitality that the coming season will bring. Like the smell of fresh-baked bread when walking through the market, the faintest flavors of future glory sprinkle the air and bring comfort to my hungry palate. But when, oh when, will you and I taste the feast of spring and summer bounty? Not yet, not yet the whirling winds cry.

However, this time of waiting is good and necessary for the process of rebirth to run its course. The land must have its time of rest before it can go into full-harvest, and we as humans must have good time to store up energy for our more spirited moments. Similar to how we need sleep to function well, we too need winter to ready us for spring.

As I write this, I am reminded of the Byrds' popular song "Turn, Turn, Turn," which uses the words of Ecclesiastes to tell a poignant tale of things happening in their appropriate season. And further, these words point me towards those of John Owen, who once wrote:

Gaudia post luctus veniunt, post gaudia luctus / Semper in ambiguo, speve metuve, sumus.

Simply translated: "Joys come after griefs, and after joys, grief. / We are always in doubt, either hope or fear."