When You’re Waiting for New Life

If you’ve been awake at all this winter, you probably know that snow has buried the northern parts of the country. For those of us in the northeast, particularly my friends in the Poconos, this is not exactly the ‘usual’ spring we were hoping for.  

 

 

Well-meaning people chirping through their plastic smiles, ‘It’s not a big deal–it’s just the weather” would be wise to remember that ‘eternal winter in Narnia’ was considered a curse by the likes of C.S. Lewis. And that guy was a modern day prophet. I’m just sayin’.

 

A week prior to the ‘big snow’ here in March, we savored sunny 60 degree temps. As I played outside with the kiddos, I noticed our daffodils on the verge of blooming. I walked along the flower beds screaming internally, “Don’t do it!! Stay tucked inside!! For the love of God, NO BLOOMING!! Go back underground until you’re told otherwise!!” The excessive use of exclamation points cannot be underestimated here.  

 

 

But those stubborn blooms refused to listen. As the cold days returned, one flower peeked out, then another. And another. They seemed to arrive much too early and yet, they’re doing exactly what they were designed to do: bloom. Their hardy petals prove that life will emerge from the cold, dark ground. They are a resurrection of yellow.  

Many of us are still dusting off the snow from a rough winter—not necessarily a result of the weather–but due to the harsh realities of our lives:

An adoption that feels more like grief than joy.

Strained relationships.

The loss of a loved one.  

The weariness of advocating for your child with different abilities.

The painful realization that our sociopolitical beliefs impact our relationships, especially as they relate to racial justice and reconciliation.

The constant care of a child who needs extra support.

The ache of waiting to adopt.

For many of us, these grey months have left us wondering whether or how new life could possibly rise from the dirt. We cannot imagine there will be any beauty left to behold.

This Sprinter (see what I did there?), I discovered…

3 Steps to Take in a Difficult Season:

1. Grieve. Mustering up the ‘choose joy’ mantra feels unhelpful to me in the hard seasons of life. We don’t have to ‘fake it ’til we make it’ (who wants to do that and how do we know we’ve ‘made it’?) or ignore the hurt or pretend to be okay. Christians often tend to heap theology–like coarse sand–on fresh wounds, because many don’t know how to respond to emotional pain. Let’s give ourselves–and each other–permission to be sad and to feel the pain of tough seasons without trying to candy-coat the hurt or frustration.
2. Laugh. Grief and laughter are both necessary in difficult times. Ecclesiastes reminds us that there is a time for both. They are part of a more holistic approach to our healing. So, bring on all the funny memes, GIFS, comedy shows, books, and hilarious texts/messages from those we love! One bedtime ritual we’ve added in our home is to watch a few funny online videos with our older two. We snort with laughter, then read and pray together, which feels like the best way to end any day.
3. Take a social media break. In this oft negative (and hateful) sociopolitical climate, stepping back from FB has been the perfect move for me. I post occasionally about what matters personally and I no longer scroll. Instead, I’m exploring local efforts where the Gospel is already at work in areas that are deeply important to me. I’ve joined a few online groups that add value to my life and work, comment occasionally on friend’s posts, and text/email/call people in order to stay connected. Maybe it would be helpful for you to step away from the screen for a bit, go for a walk, or meet up with a close friend.

I don’t know what new life looks like for you in the midst of this [extended] season of waiting. I do know that we can’t control outcomes or the weather (I mean, clearly) but we do have some agency. As we wait, we can take steps to help us better handle the difficult seasons and we can trust that new life will bloom.

What helps you through seasons that feel relentless and difficult?