it’s Groundhog Day — one of the days in American culture that forces me to shake my head and wonder how in the world we have come upon crazy superstitions such as these.

however, in bringing this up to a few of my closest friends, i realized that today i found a small amount of comfort in the fact that Punxsutawney Phil predicted an early spring. even if it is a silly superstition — i hate winter, and faith becomes greater in times of desperation.

there’s an element to the season that comes with blistering cold and weather that keeps us locked inside our houses that affects some people more than others. winter comes with an almost spooky set of symptoms that can send people (myself included) spiraling into places that are just a little darker than the average days. and sometimes, the only improvement — the only hope — is that we know spring will come.

one of my favorite days of the year is the first warm day after winter. you can almost feel the earth stretching its arms and rubbing the sleep from its eyes, feel the grass and flowers eagerly start peeking their sprouts above the thawing ground, and feel everything around you breathe a sigh of relief. walking outside on the first day of spring, you can feel the desperation of the earth to break out of the ice and cold and into a time where life can thrive.

it’s similar to what we feel as humans when we have been through a circumstance of grief. i once spent my birthday weekend assisting with the funeral of a friend’s grandmother — out of respect, i kept the date under wraps until my friend told his family as they cleaned up the funeral dinner. with little hesitation, his aunt rushed into the room and made everybody sing “Happy Birthday” to me. in the midst of feeling super awkward (because really, it’s a strange feeling to hear that song in the midst of a funeral), i noticed the family break out of their grief for a short moment to simply acknowledge another year of life. it looked like the first day of spring in that room — i could see everybody take a desperately needed moment to smile and find joy. after spending days in the midst of grief and allowing themselves to truly mourn a loss, small flickers of hope began to sprout from their hearts. i could feel the necessity of joy in that room.

in an area with changing climates, we are able to physically see the way nature responds to things like grief and damage and hurt. while the earth freezes and cracks in the depths of winter, it takes a desperate breath of relief when the air warms.
as parts of nature ourselves, we can gain hope from the way the world takes a deep breath and thrusts itself into relief and joy. as the solar system works in its intricate patterns and rotations, we can come to expect changes in seasons.

if nothing else, i want this to sink in — we can expect that a season will change. we can expect that as nature turns from winter to spring, so our winters will slowly thaw out and we will be able to breathe and rejoice. we are blessed to serve a God of new beginnings who does not keep His children in the dark and cold forever.

i’m not sure where these words find you today, whether you are bundling up to face a harsh day or stepping outside to enjoy the sunlight, but you are not alone where you stand. if you are bracing yourself against a cold and dreary season or stumbling and crawling your way through the darkness, do not give up. the sun, the spring, the light is coming. and if you stepped outside this morning to stretch and relish in a sunny day, take a moment to share hope with someone else. they need it.

wherever we are, the truth remains — there is a time and a season for everything. and whatever season you are in, you will keep moving.
a new season is coming, my friends.