Sunday: Sunny skies and 72 degrees.
Monday: Sunny skies and 72 degrees.
Tuesday: Sunny skies and 72 degrees.
The monotony of such a forecast can be enticing. You know what to expect; no sudden downpours catching you unaware, no blizzards holding you hostage for days on end, no sweltering heat with its accompanying stress headache.
But today I thought, what if I gave up the four seasons for just one?
That would mean no more fall with its breathtaking beauty, a constant reminder that this world was made beautiful for me to enjoy.
No more winter snowstorms magnifying the splendor of the world with its pristine newness covering up, even if for a short time, any ugliness that exists beneath it.
No more spring, ushering in better times, sunshine and renewal into a fatigued, cold world.
Could I give that up?
I remember once standing outside while a tornado raged in front of my eyes. I stood frozen, watching with intense fascination as it wreaked havoc at everything in its unfortunate path. I knew I should run to a safer place but the power of the oxymoronic beautiful terror was as compelling as the beach is on a perfect day, and it all but paralyzed me.
It leads me to think of my life, a cacophony of seasons and storms: of tornadoes and sun showers, of hurricanes and magnificent, multi-colored trees, of short, dark days and abundant sunshine, and I wonder: Would I give up the turbulence for endless sunshine?
And the answer is no. For I know that the strongest trees in the forest withstand the harshest of winds and if for nothing else, then for the triumph of standing tall against the violent winds, I will welcome, rather than resent, the seasons in my life.