The Grass Grows and the Snow Flies

Spring ignites an onslaught of green. Grass, slumbering from November, awakens.

Fresh growth meets a sharpened lawnmower blade and an eight to nine month process of weekly mowing ensues. Predictable in its rhythm, the task is embraced with regularity.

Flakes fly, the wind blows. Snow. It nudges out other chores on the list. It cuts in line and demands response without a rhythm. Expected, but unscheduled.

Routine and random. Grass and snow. Life.

A marathon and a sprint. A roommate and an intruder.

A new year promises both grass and snow. Both calendared events and May blizzards.

We must be ready for the grass and prepared for the snow.

We must be attentive in what could be mundane; and equipped for what could be overwhelming.

Some challenges come to us incrementally, others in drifts. Some tasks are calibrated on a calendar, others greet me with the sunrise.

The grass grows and the snow flies. Gifts in different wrapping.

One demands discipline, the other preparation. But they will both happen. And they both possess the possibility of beauty and joy and celebration.

Daunting in denial; pregnant with possibility.

Planned and unplanned. On schedule and out of our control.

A lawnmower that serves weekly; a snowblower that stands ready.

Grass and snow.

Life.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace. (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)

Grass and snow.

A time for everything.

In this new year, I will need both a lawnmower and a snowblower.

In this new year, I will need discipline in the routine; and preparation for the unexpected.

In everything, I will need Jesus.

In the routine, joy. In the unexpected, peace.

Grass and snow.

Happy New Year.