For so long I have longed for the seasons of the earth to reflect the seasons in my heart. For so long I imagined what it would be like to watch the ground surrender to Winter as the rotation of the earth forced our hemisphere to turn away from the sun and rest.

I wanted to watch the leaves fall as if it would give my heart permission to grieve. I wanted pieces of my brokenness fall to the ground with every leaf until my heart was as bare as every Oak and every Elm.

I wanted my hurt and longing and pain to be covered by the snow and frozen beneath the glistening blanket that covered the ground. I wanted it to melt away as the sun rose high, never to be seen again. I dreamt of expectantly watching the buds emerge on the trees and anticipated feeling hope leap in my heart with the unfolding of every Cherry Blossom. I wanted to feel my strength grow with the lengthening of the day as Spring slowly took control.

But Winter came for the earth in a time of Spring in my heart, and so I didn’t grieve. I built snowmen and went sledding. I opened the curtains and giggled as the sky turned gray and the earth turned white. It didn’t hurt. I didn’t mourn.

I didn’t even feel like I was losing.

Maybe missing Autumn isolated me from the full effect of Winter. I was thrown into this season abruptly and I welcomed it. But now? It’s the middle of March and it snowed all night, with no sign of stopping til late afternoon.

Winter won’t let go, and I think he’s trying to tell me something.

I think he’s reaching out with every last snowflake and below-freezing-temp saying, “Wait! You haven’t learned it all, yet. There’s more you need to know before Summer; I’m just not finished.”

I imagined he saw me frolicking in a dress on Saturday, sipping my iced coffee and relishing the sunshine, and simply refused to surrender. So he rallied his troops of Snowstorms and Cloudy Skies and said emphatically:

“This fight is NOT over! We’re not giving up this easily.” He barked instructions and sent them out with the decree, “Tonight! I don’t want the week to start until every last one of you has fallen from the sky.”

And so I woke up to white, white, white. With more falling from the gray, gray sky.

The only thing more chilling than one hundred days without the sun is coming out of it unchanged.

Summer ruled my days for nearly every month I’ve ever known, and as whimsical as the newness of Winter has been to my sunshine-addicted heart, I would be devastated to have lived in his company for all these weeks without getting to the bottom of his purpose.

So today? It’s me and Winter. I have a steaming cup of coffee, and I hope he accepts my apology for not asking sooner why he’s here, and what wisdom he would share with my Summer infused heart, that I might be a better gal in every season because of it.