Seasons

I’ve always been that girl who gets a little too excited with the coming of each new season. My excitement used to come from the little things like leaves changing or flowers blooming. But as time goes on, seasons have started to mean something different to me. Seasons are something metaphorical now, that serve as a reminder of undeniable hope. 
Like seasons on a calendar, we too have seasons in our lives. Some are filled with heartbreak. We’ll feel like happiness is something unattainable and we’ll never be more than barely okay. Some seasons of life are prosperous, and we’ll flourish where we are rooted. Sometimes there are droughts and sometimes the rain is plentiful. At times, we’ll feel cold and alone, and then there will be seasons where community runs deep and we are surrounded by our cheerleaders. Some seasons will stick around longer than we’d like, and their effects will show up even as time moves on. At times we’ll wish that some seasons could have lasted longer than they did. 
But no matter how much praying or begging we do, seasons will come and go. Through watching the cycle of a calendar year, we notice the cycle of our lives, too. There will undoubtedly be hard times, but we can rest knowing that the good times will come again. Seasons don’t last forever. They grow us, they change us, and then come again to teach us something new.