I tend to think in extreme micro and macro sometimes, forgetting that which is in between...real life, real people, and seasons of transition. I have commented before that I love the transitional seasons (fall and spring), but seasons in my own life are difficult to live into sometimes.
I have a feeling that when we all lived closer to the soil, saw the earth produce blossoms in spring, food in fall, we could value each season for what it was. Most of us now would prefer the Southern California year-long-summer or at least we'll stay away from the Minneapolis winters. But these seasons are valuable, whether they're delightful and sunny or dark and cold. The earth must reset itself and so must we as well.
People continually remind me that this phase with a newborn is but a season...and by the time that you're nearing its end, you'll wish that you had cherished it more. But in the middle of this season, I sometimes want out, you know? I want to hurry the season along.
When we moved to SF, I wanted to immediately know the city. I wanted to know and be known by all the neighbors; I wanted to know the unfound hotspots; I wanted to feel like we'd lived here for years. I wanted the season of "learning new things" to end so the next could begin.
I have said before that I don't value the process as much as I'd like to. I like arrival points (however fictitous they may be). And I tend to want to rush towards these points, to end the season early, to skip ahead. I know, I know...it's lazy and it robs me of real growth. True dat.
Every season must have significance to our lives and to the world at large. I gotta believe that.
And so begins the Lenten season tomorrow. I have decided (and so has Holly) to give up coffee for Lent. A good friend of ours thinks I'm an addict. I say it's merely a coping mechanism for early parenthood. Still, we're going off the goods for this season.