Transitions

Snow fell softly, settling onto the fat buds of the rhododendron, sifting down around a bright yellow daffodil. Spring would soon be here, but winter was not quite ready to leave. A splotchy white coat did its best to cover the soggy ground. By ten a.m. it had melted, the precipitation turned liquid. In western Oregon, winter brings more rain than snow.

 It is a time of transition. Indeed, change is always with us, but it becomes more apparent at certain times of the year. As the cherry trees burst into pink blossoms and crocuses raise their cheerful heads, most people I know are ready for spring, or even for summer. We welcome the growth of spring—with the possible exception of the lawn, which suddenly needs mowing. When autumn arrives, we welcome the changing colors and the rains that end the threat of fire, although some may dread the coming of the cold and the shortening days. Transitions are not always easy.

 My son is in the midst of transition. His springtime brings marriage, a new job, a new city—so many changes, so much to learn. I watch with excitement from afar. My autumn is also a time of change. Child rearing has ended, and work presents new opportunities. Longtime dreams rise anew; perhaps now I have time to chase them. I often fear the unknown, but the future is always unknown. Mysteries can be wild and wonderful; they needn’t always be fearful. I place my dreams in God’s hands and look forward to what may come.