I love living in a temperate region where there’s a definite difference in the seasons. I like all four of them best, each for different reasons. Winter can be messy, but I love the hard frozen ground, the crisp, invigorating air, and the snow that blankets the world (briefly) with fresh, pure white. Spring, despite the wet, brings hope and the promise of new life. Summer, though hot and miserable, yields fruit (and vegetables). Autumn reminds us of the brevity of life, but it brings blessed relief from the heat and wraps itself in fragrant, glorious color.
Ever notice how in the summer, when there’s more work to do, the season provides extra daylight hours for doing it? And in the winter, when you love to curl up under a blanket with a good book, the evenings are luxuriously long? Yes, I know; the world’s not perfect. But some of those days, it almost seems like it is.
It’s good I love autumn, because I’m in that season of life now. My mother-in-law is bound in a bitter winter. It’s spring for my grandchildren, who bounce around like lambs; and my kids are in various stages of their long summers.
For those who, by God’s grace, are assured of everlasting life, winter is nothing to fear. Though the dreary days grow short and our aching bones are chilled, we look forward to an eternal spring.