The sharp cold weather of January turned for a moment, and western
blew a mild breeze through our chilled, college town, melting snow and giving false hopes of March before February. We have passed the darkest days of winter now, and lately, I have been contemplating the subject of seasons. Pennsylvania
It is helpful for me to have a focus for each season, something to frame in the months and separate each from the other. Four months have passed since I dared to write, and though I thought about it occasionally, this latest season of my life had to be characterized by silence. On a grand scale, this is the finishing college season and the preparing for marriage season. But on a personal scale, the last four moths have been a season of accepting change, nursing bruises and keeping quiet.
The New Year did not begin as freshly as I expected. Two-thousand-and-twelve was born in some of the darkest hours of that season of silence. And when January broke forth, I wrestled and pondered and ached all the more. It has taken me the whole month step forward, but, finally, this season of silence is over.
“Be still and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10