To everything there is a season, and a time for every matter or purpose under heaven...
A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.
Though we have yet to hit the summer solstice, our family has already enjoyed the season's sweet offerings: a blazing sun, a respite from routine responsibilities, and constant company with each other. Audrey, Reid and Norah are each at a place in life that I want to freeze-frame and soak up every twinkle of the eye and idiosyncratic remark, every giggle and guffaw. Aside from the monthly chemo week, Matt is in full-form: energized and engaged.
Part of me wonders:
Would the summer be so sweet if the winter weren't so bitter?
And, would the bitter winter be so bearable if the summer's promise weren't so sweet?
The Lord, in His providence and sustaining grace, is kind to mingle the two. In the cold of winter, we carry the warmth of the Son through Whom the promise is made to be with us "always, to the end of the age." And in the season of colorful communion, we carry the heavy reality that green will give way to gray, proving that we are not home yet.
For now, I will live in the season I feel swirling about me. I will drink it in, savor it as a foretaste of heaven: a blazing Son, a forever respite from a worn-out world and constant company, face-to-face with my Savior and the saints around the throne.