Seasons

The spring season is giving way to summer.  Before long, we will see the summer turn to fall. This cyclical pattern continues year after year and so goes the seasons of this part of the planet.  Interestingly enough, our lives tend to have seasons as well.

Over the past year, I have had a dry season for my soul.  Perhaps that is a bit mild.  I've been in a drought.  The problem really isn't the drought as much as I have learned to tolerate the drought.  It is as if I am living in a desert and I have accepted my dwelling place.  But now that I have been in this place for some time, I am beginning to long for the rains to come.  Where are the streams of refreshing?

There have been several times when clouds have come across the sky with the promise of rain but they refused to release their moisture.  The few times that they did release some of the rain, it was either absorbed by the parched ground or evaporated just after hitting the ground.

As I survey the land around my dwelling place, there is nothing but parched ground to the north, the south, and the west.  For reasons unknown, I have not looked to the east for some time.  Perhaps there is a lingering memory of a religious bondage that I want keep as distant as possible.  Yet, there are still memories of unending steams of water.

Perhaps I don't need to travel back to the east. Maybe, just maybe, I need only to look east to see if it is any different than my other views.  After all, there might be a stream of fresh water or possibly more.

As I turn around, I stand in awe.  All this time of living in a parched land was there really a sea to the east?  Did I shut out the sounds of the waves crashing on the beach?  Did I really ignore the smell of the sea?  Did I refuse to acknowledge it was there all along? Surely this didn't just appear.

Now I stand here with a choice.  Do I end the season of dryness and immerse myself in the sea, or do I continue on in this parched land and tolerate this continual thirst?