Springtime always makes me a little crazy. I’m not sure why. We live in a valley, and January/February usually means one inversion after another. The sky turns that exact shade of gray that causes everything to lose all its color. Between that and the icy cold, it wears on the best of us. It's all we can talk about, think about...But for some reason it’s spring that rattles me. After a few days of celebrating the sunshine, the changing season always causes me to go into a little bit of a tailspin.
My guess is that it’s because in winter time it’s pretty easy to be singularly focused. The cold drives us inside, and I launch into cocoon mode. I cook, and we snuggle. We play games and watch movies and drink wine. We focus on schoolwork and family. I read more, and relax more, and pray more. Who cares if the house gets a little cluttered, no one’s coming over anyway…Yesterday was a glorious spring day. My forsythia is budding and there are big pink flowers on the tulip tree. The kids played outside in short sleeves. We opened the blinds for the first time in 3 months, but after about 5 minutes of standing in the living room basking in the sunshine I started to notice all the things that were covered in winter grit and grime.
In the springtime, I get a little overwhelmed.
I wish I was better at letting go. I wish that I could sit in disarray and have it not vibrate around me like a nest of hornets. I wish that I could find contentment in “good enough.” I wish that I didn’t take the dirty windows and rotting leaves so personally. I wish that I could be happy about the little green shoots peeking out of the damp earth, instead of frowning about the brown dry branches of the rosebushes that need to be pruned.
I’m trying. God grant me serenity…