Mar. 20, 2008
Out Came the Sun and Dried Up All the Rain
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Ya know, even the southern girl that I am (although finding myself quite at home here in the midwest), I love the season of winter. I love it's peacefulness. It's quietness. Some of the other seasons seem to shout, but winter...winter whispers. I love winter. You have to listen hard for winter's secrets, otherwise, you might just miss them. But, if you listen, she has such beautiful things to share. But, God sure had a good idea when it came to this whole 'four seasons' thing. The months between January and March are, typically, the homeschooling family's challenge. They are those months that tend to fall into the category of drudgery. But, finally, one day, the air warms....just enough to open the windows. We tend to have a few days of nice, warm air followed by another week or two of cold air....and repeat the cycle a few times.....before we truly get to that place where we can open up the house and sit on the porch and do our assignments outside and take walks, and watch flowers bloom and listen to birds sing. Spring is bashful around these parts. It doesn't jump out and and scream "I'm here! Did ya miss me?!" ....it kind of woos you with a little here and a little more there, until one day, you realize -- it's no longer winter. Something tells me that this year will whisk by even faster than the last. Seems to be the way of life. I find it hard to believe that it's Springtime already. My front porch has been patiently waiting for me though. It's good like that. The cool air takes this, displaced, Floridian indoors for months at a time, but that trusty porch of mine just confidently saves me a seat. It knows that the sun will implore me out again soon enough. It's almost like we've done this dance before. I'm reminded of that hymn that we can all recite blindly. "This is My Father's World". It was written by Maltbie Babcock in 1901. Those spring blossoms and that clean spring air; those chirping birds and the warmth of that welcoming sunshine....these things are not afterthoughts. These and so many other things, I believe, God hand-crafted as characteristics stemming from His ideal of Springtime. "This is my Father's world, and to my listening ears All nature sings and round me rings, the music of the spheres. This is my Father's world: I rest me in the thought Of rocks and trees; of skies and seas; His hand the wonders wrought. "This is my Father's world, the birds their carols raise, The morning light, the lily white, declare their Maker's praise. This is my Father's world; He shines in all that's fair; In the rustling grass, I hear Him pass; He speaks to me everywhere." | |