On Rivers and Sleeping Daffodils

 "Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there someday." -A. A. Milne





This has been the mildest, most wonderful springs winters I've seen in a long time.  Sometimes I forget that it's still winter. 

Some of the trees are already budding, some of the flowers are already blooming, falling for nature's little trick.  But I've noticed that there are no daffodils yet.  The daffodils are still asleep.  I expect they'll pop up sooner or later, but for now, their absence serves as a reminder that it's still time to wait.

I know what they're waiting for.  They're waiting for spring.  They're waiting for the cold and death of winter (even if it's a mild winter) to finally be over, for the warmth and life of spring to wake them up.  They're waiting for the right time.

What am I waiting for?

I don't know, but I kinda figure that all those flowers that came out too early are going to fade out quickly, or maybe even be killed off by an unexpected wintry day.

The daffodils?  They don't rush. 

Neither will I.

Sunday Update: Now

There's a hilly field that I pass by on my way to and from church.  When my preschool job (which is also at my church) starts again, I'll be passing this field several times a week, as I did this past school year.  This field is next to a white house, and all of it is enclosed by a brown fence.  A chestnut horse often peacefully grazes within my view as I drive past this field.  I guess I'll be a Kentucky girl no matter where I live, because I happen to very much like looking at chestnut horses in hilly fields next to white houses, enclosed by brown fences.  My parents taught school  in a county that was half an hour away from where we lived, and I went to elementary and middle school in the county where my parents taught instead of in the county where I lived.  As a result, I spent a great deal of my childhood staring out car windows at Kentucky fields and hills, white houses surrounded by brown fences, horses and cattle grazing on green grass.

It's amazing that I've even paid enough attention to the hilly field I pass several times a week to be able to tell you the color of the house, horse, and fence.  Such things should be commonplace to me, and often times they are.  There is a difference between Kentucky hills and North Carolina hills, just as there's a difference between Kentucky mountains and North Carolina mountains.  But I've spent so much of my life driving past scenic country farmland that I often take all the separate beauty for granted. 

But today, on my drive home from church, that field I pass all the time looked different.  Thousands and thousands of golden flowers (I think they were golden rods) were scattered across the green.  Great purplish bushes contrasted with the gold, causing me to mentally pause (if I had actually paused, the guy riding my bumper would have gladly rear-ended me).  I couldn't stay there, but I took a moment to commit that beautiful scene to memory, because the way nature keeps moving and changing, that field of flowers could be gone tomorrow.  And something tells me I was meant to see them before they passed away.

Next week, the girls I watch go back to school.  I've uploaded all of the pics I took with them this beautiful summer.  It has all gone by so quickly, and I'm glad for the memories I've made with them, as well as a bit regretful that I didn't try to make a few more.  This time of my life is almost over, and soon I'll just have the girls in the afternoons when they get out of school.  I'll be caring for a new classroom of children in my preschool (while saying another sort of goodbye to the ones I cared for last year, who will be across the hall in another classroom, getting loved on by new teachers who aren't me).  I'll be developing new relationships through work and church, choir and my running group, and God only knows what else.  I'll hopefully be writing/editing/querying again with renewed vigor.  And I'm reminded that I am a person who is often resistant to change.  But change happens.  Nothing can stop it.  It's the way life is. 

In the past year, God has done a lot in my life.  He brought me from a very long (5.5 years!!) season of winter into a season of springtime.  I've grown because He's changed me.  And since that winter was so long, I guess I expected the spring season to last a long time, too.  But the thing about spring is, it never seems to last.  There is a tremendous burst of life that all too quickly blossoms into summer, and summer just sort of relaxes into autumn.  And everything changes, once more. 

There's a line from Shadowlands (one of my favorite movies about the later life of C. S. Lewis) that fits my mood right now.  C. S. Lewis was sitting at a desk talking to a friend, and he said, "Give me blizzards and frozen pipes, but not this nothing time.  Not this waiting room of the world."  He was expressing his thoughts about the change--that transitional period between seasons and stages of life.  It was no longer winter, but spring had not yet come, and he felt restless.  And part of me has been restless, too.

The winter that I lived in for 5.5 years wasn't all bad, but a lot of the time I just felt like a frozen Narnia waiting for Aslan to come, bringing Christmas and spring in his wake.  Now that I've lived in a new and glorious Spiritual spring for a short year, I'm sensing that God's bringing me into another season.  Perhaps He's already brought me out of spring and into summer without my knowledge, because I sense that autumn is approaching--both in a literal sense (obviously; there is no stopping the calendar) and a Spiritual sense.  I sense a harvest coming.  I think the harvest is going to involve many things.  Since God has grown me so much in the spring, I expect the harvest is going to be plentiful. 

I am almost afraid to hope for it, but I have a strong sense that a lot of the things I've been waiting for for a VERY long time are going to come to fruition.  I don't know what that fruition will look like, but right now I am cautiously expectant, waiting (and trusting...always waiting and trusting) for what God's going to bring. 

Since I've sensed the end of summer coming upon me, in the past couple of weeks I've checked out tons of books from the library, hoping to read as much as I possibly can before I develop a scheduled routine that makes reading for fun nearly impossible.  I've taken a last-minute summer vacation in the only way I can financially afford to take one--by letting my mind enter into stories. 

One of the books I've read has just served to reemphasize the idea that things are going to change in my life for the better.  And maybe that means that I'm going to have to have a few final struggles before I can experience all the good things that harvest will bring.  Because harvesting is a lot of work.  It involves sweat and labor, long hours and effort.  It involves decisions and discipline, but there's joy in that, too.

And the time will come for that soon.  Very soon. 

Right now, the harvest still hasn't come.  I've still got some books from the library that want to be read.  I still have a couple weeks before the preschool job starts.  The calendar is moving.  The flowers are going through their life cycles.  Everything is changing.  But now, right now, is a gift from God.  There's nothing wrong with remembering; there's nothing wrong with looking expectantly towards the future.  These things are very good, but not if they interfere with the joy that's to be experienced in the now.  It might be one of those "nothing times" right now, but I don't feel restless anymore. 

Sometimes I have to pursue peace, and peace is really something worth pursuing.  That's something God has taught me a lot in this past Spring season.  But I've learned that sometimes peace has a way of sneaking up on you and taking you by surprise.  Right now, peace has surprised me.  I'm exceedingly thankful for this time.  The golden flowers on the hilly fields, the gently moving clouds in the blue late summer sky, the smells and sights and sounds of the world holding its breath...waiting for what the next season has in store. 

This is a good time to be alive.

Summer

Ever since my preschool teacher gig ended the last week of May, I've had a lot of extra time off.  Even with two (actually, due to some boring stuff I don't want to go into, it's now officially THREE) other jobs apart from the preschool thing, I can't seem to get enough hours to fully occupy my time.  And I know that when schools get out around here, I'm going to have to devote full days instead of full afternoons to my nanny job--but in the meantime, I have a lot more time to do absolutely nothing.

Now, if this time had been handed to me back in January or February, I know exactly what I would do with it.  I'd work on writing stuff until my fingers fell off.  Since I kind of like my fingers attached to my hands, I guess it's a good thing that I didn't have a lot of free time then.

The thing is, there's something about the summer that makes me feel...well, I can't think of a word for it.  Lazy was the first word that came to my mind, but that's not what I'm looking for.  I mean, I can be lazy (yesterday was an example of how I can unforgivably waste a lot of time playing computer games when I'm supposed to be working on writing--and I hope never to repeat it--but something tells me I will).  But I think a better term to describe how summer makes me feel is...relaxed.

I blame it on the fact that I spent my entire childhood going to school for every season besides summer.  When summer came, no more work.  I got to sleep in late and watch tv and read books and play outside and go swimming and go on vacation and just do nothing until August.  And my parents are teachers, so they had summer off, too.  I had no concept of people actually having to WORK in the summer.  And I guess even now part of that mentality is still present.

Sometimes I get really worked up and think I have to do a lot of stuff--and work is important.  The things I do with the time I've been given are vitally important.  But sometimes I start thinking that if I'm not doing this one certain thing (like writing, going to work, etc.), then I'm wasting my time.  And summer is a nice reminder that it's okay to relax.  It's a reminder I need annually.

Last summer I decided that I was going to try to experience every season instead of just getting through them.  With summer, that meant I was going to spend more time doing relaxing things that were still important.  I went on daycations to see friends that live a few hours away.  I sat out on my front porch with a glass of iced tea--just to listen to the sounds of the crickets.  I put on my spf 100 and went to the pool.  I made low calorie root beer floats.  In the fall, I made a point of actually going to the state fair (since it's so close and I'd NEVER been before--what was I thinking?).  I carved a pumpkin.  I made a full Thanksgiving dinner (complete with a 13 lb. turkey) just for myself (even though one other person did show up at the last minute).  Winter was harder because I'm one of those notorious WINTER HATERS, but even then I tried.  I mean, Christmas is easy.  It's my favorite season, my favorite day, my favorite favorite favorite.  But after Christmas, then comes that two and a half month period where I hate everything...except for hot chocolate (which I couldn't have because I'm dieting, but oh well).  But I did a lot of knitting (because that's a winter activity, yo).  I got a new coat which helped things a lot--it's always better to brave the cold when looking adorable and fashionable...and because of all the knitting, I also had a lot of cute scarves to wear.  Mainly, I kept telling myself that spring would be all the sweeter after I finally got through winter.  Then spring came and my heart rejoiced!  Life!  Flowers!  Butterflies!  Warmer (but not too warm) weather!  Allergies...well, okay, so spring isn't perfect either, but that's what Claritin is for.

So it's summer again (or so the temperatures outside tell me, even if the calendar still says it's spring).  And I'm learning (once again) that it's okay to relax.  I've had a lot of time off.  Some of it I've wasted.  Some of it I've spent LIVING.  Even if I'm not working or writing, I can still do something important--like go have lunch with a friend I haven't seen in a while or having a picnic just because I can.

I really think that one of the reasons God invented summer is to remind us to slow down and take time to relax.  I get in such a hurry sometimes to do do do, get done get done get done, be somewhere be somewhere be somewhere that I forget it's important to take time to breathe.  God did give us work, but He also gave us rest.  And sometimes rest means doing something different from the treadmill/hamster wheel routine.  Sometimes it just means taking the time to appreciate life.

So whatever else happens this summer, I plan on really living.