We have two seasons in Port Morseby, where I live: hot and hotter. At least, that’s what I like to tell people. I’m extra grateful this year to be in my passport country for a season, where the air is already crisp, the wood stove is roaring, and I’m wearing a long-sleeved flannel shirt as I type. I love the seasons in the US. The colors, the smells, the change in temperature, and just the natural rhythms that seasons create help you reflect on where you are and where you’re coming from.
Fall is my favorite. I’m a rainy-day, book-in-one-hand, hot-cup-of-spiced-chai-in-the-other kind of girl, at least I used to be. Now with young kids, I’m a read-on-my-kindle-while-nursing, reheat-my-tea (again), clean-up-spilled-hot-chocolate, sleep-deprived kind of girl. To be honest, I often struggle in this season of littles. I resonate so much with Patti Callahan Henry when she said, “Motherhood is selfless, writing is selfish. The clash of these two unyielding truths creates a thin tightrope, one I fall off of daily, damaging all of us.” (Becoming Mrs. Lewis)
What do you do when who you were fundamentally created to be pulls so tightly against who you are currently asked to be? How do you not resent the chatter when you crave quiet or the spit-up when you like things clean? In seasons with young kids, so much of your day is pouring into someone else so that they can thrive—to the point that, at times, your own soul starts to wilt.
Maybe you’re not in a season with young kids. Maybe you’re an extrovert in a season where you haven’t learned enough vocabulary in your host country to communicate in the way that you want to. Maybe you’re not currently in your host country because you are taking time out to care for an elderly parent. Seasons and change, while beautiful, can break off pieces of who you thought you were, revealing tender places that take time to fully bloom. Lean into that change. Take time to dig into what this season has to teach you, how it wants to shape and grow you.
Last year, my Bible study group spent a year reading through Ecclesiastes. I think Ecclesiastes gets a bad rap. It’s often seen as negative or even depressing. But one of the core themes of Ecclesiastes is that life has seasons. “All is hebel,” chapter one, verse two says. Thirty-eight times this Hebrew word is used. While often translated as meaningless or vanity, it actually means vapor, breath, or fleeting. Life is a breath. It is short. Like the changing seasons, it won’t last, so make the most of it.
Of course, there is the famous passage in chapter three that tells us, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity” (3:1 NIV). There’s a time to search and a time to give up, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to keep and a time to throw away. I can relate to that one as I, once again, decide what is worth storing, what to pack, and what to give away to the local secondhand shop. I’m talking about you, Cute Clothes from a Pre-Kids Era That Don’t Fit As Well As They Used To. The verses that struck me most though are from later in the chapter. Verse eleven so eloquently states, “He has made everything beautiful in its time.” And then verses twelve and thirteen say, “I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and do good while they live. That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God.”
Take time to be happy. Take time to do good. Find satisfaction in the work that is before you. These are gifts that God, in his love, hands down to each of us. I’m planning on enjoying our friend’s chili cook-off tonight in my burnt-orange sweater that my cousin recently bought for me (this redhead is all about those jewel tones). I’m going to eat roasted marshmallows and be grateful for the cooler temperatures and the golden leaves floating to the ground, precious gifts from the Creator in this season of sticky fingers and temper tantrums.
And then, when we eventually return to Port Moresby and sweat is dripping down my back because it’s “hotter” season again, I’ll pull a cold mango from the fridge and enjoy that. I do love fall with all of my being and, for now, I’ll savor its colors and smells, but mango season is one of my favorite seasons too.
What is something you love about your current season? What is particularly challenging?
4 Responses
“How do you not resent the chatter when you crave quiet or the spit-up when you like things clean? In seasons with young kids, so much of your day is pouring into someone else so that they can thrive—to the point that, at times, your own soul starts to wilt.”
I relate so much to this right now! I’m in that season with little ones, and it is so hard to keep up with the messes and distractions… But then, I realize the “distractions” are often the actual important tasks that I’m meant to be focused on. But…those messes don’t take care of themselves either! I love that encouragement to lean into the season you’re in and to learn from it. Thank you!
Thank you. It is a challenge for sure. So glad that you found it encouraging.
Thank you for these beautiful reminders. I’ll be chewing on Ecclesiastes 3 in coming days to let it sink in. I’m in a surprise season of another newborn after having passed through it 10 years ago with my other 3 kids! The dichotomy I find myself in is mind-blowing. I’ll be chatting with my oldest about colleges and then go change a dirty diaper for my 2mo. The sleepless nights are adding up, but if I can get my brain to slow down and connect the dots properly, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for the gifts, surprise or not.
Wow, that must be quite the contrast for sure. My youngest is about to turn one so right there with you in the sleep deprived days. Doing my best to savor the beautiful but also be realistic about my very real limitations in this season.