Here in New England, spring can be a frustrating season. Last March ended with a paralyzing snowstorm that cracked tree limbs and flattened my favorite lilac bush. April opened with a ninety-degree day then chilled to misty showers that lasted most of the month, including the week my oldest grandsons came for a visit during school vacation. I’d hoped for sunny days romping on the lawn, but most of our time was spent inside, playing card games like War or Crazy Eight, and their new favorite board game, Sorry, that keeps sending you back to the start just when you’ve almost got all your men safely home.
At the end of the visit, pre-school cousins added to the pile of boys for a sleepover. Dawn comes early now, and at 5:30 AM, they all ran downstairs. After a quick cup of coco, we finally opened the door and together walked into sparkling sunshine. Still in our pajamas, we played Wiffle ball, kickball, dodge ball, and swung on the swings as bluebirds and gold finches chirped, building their nests in the treetops. In all the glorious fun, my four-year-old grandson, threw his little arms around my fuzzy bathrobe at the waist, looked up into my face and said, “Gramma you’re wonderful!”
Oh, how my heart swelled with love for this wonderful child, and I realized this is what our loving God longs for from us, to look him full in the face and call out his wonder.
That afternoon, after all the boys went home, I checked my email and found the husband of a close friend had died while I’d been enjoying my sweet little men. After being flattened by a layoff, his heart formed an invisible crack, and he fell into a paralyzing depression until his weary body gave up the fight.
My heart deflated, as I sat on the couch reminded that at times it’s easy to wonder if God is even good.
The morning of the funeral, I was in my garden adding compost around blooming bulbs and bleeding hearts, sweaty with dew, until it was time to go to the memorial.
Behind the church dais there were photos on a big screen of happier times in the husband’s life, fishing, waterskiing, wedding shots of a glowing bride and groom. Pictures of a proud father holding his firstborn.
At the end of the memorial, we sang some old hymns: “How Great though Art,” “Amazing Grace,” “Softly and Tenderly,” “Precious Lord, Take my Hand,” and lastly “God Be with You Till We Meet Again.”
Friends, there are seasons when we feel like we’re losing the game of life, at war with ourselves, dealing with crazy unexpected circumstances, sorry for so many things and wishing we could start over. You are not alone if you’ve ever wondered if God really loves you because life on earth can be frustrating and cold.
But remember, even in New England, summer cannot be forestalled forever. The daffodils have passed and tulip heads cup the rain.
Both joy and grief can happen in the same day, so let’s hold hands as we walk each other to our eternal doorstep, trusting that as God’s precious children, He thinks all of us are wonderful too!
Maranatha, come quickly Lord Jesus!
“God be with you till we meet again.
Jeremiah Eames Rankin
When life’s perils thick confound you,
Put unfailing arms around you,
God be with you till we meet again.”
All photos by the author, Ann C. Averill
Copyright Ann C. Averill 2023
Ann is so talented. Thank you.
Thanks, Ann. I feel like an old sock that’s so worn that it can’t even be darned anymore. I need this reminder that He thinks I’m wonderful. Thanks for His perspective in words and images [apples of gold in settings of silver].
Linda, you are far more than an holey sock. God has made you holy, pardon the pun, with the holy blood of Christ. I know you like word play like I do, but this is no laughing matter. He thinks your wonderful and so do I!
Beautifully written and received. Thanks for sharing.