When winter turns to spring

We realized spring had wandered far off,  the day snowflakes covered much of what moved and breathed. Goldi wondered at the first signs of winter. Though much of life was asleep,  she knew an adventure in winter wonderland awaited.

“Can we go sledding?” she asks.

“Let’s go” I answer.

“Can we make a snowman?” she asks

“Let’s do it.” I answer.

Fun had endless possibilities. Everything was white and bright. Though all the world was  sleeping, we were awakened with the change of season.  There were times of just laying in the snow and staring at the silvery sky. There were times of making a snow fort. There were new experiences of snow shoeing which energized us when our spirits were just plain tired of the season.

After a few months of winter, Goldi seemed to strip down in desperation when she’d return from school. The heavy weight of clothes and the repeated on and off, was pressing down and crushing her footloose and fancy free spirit. Being surrounded constantly by four walls and a ceiling was like prison. But the bitter cold warned us that winter was not done. It came and came again.  It was overstaying its welcome.

Goldi looked out the window one day and stared at out into the world.  It was dark, gray, and quiet. Though the meaning of the word “dead” is not  in this bouncy girl’s vocabulary, she realized life was at a standstill.

“Mommy, we have to turn winter into spring!” she said racing for her wings and magic wand.

She tried various wishful words to make it happen.

“Mom, it just doesn’t work out that way.” she sighed.

Spring became a far away hope. So far away, it was hard to see. How could barefoot in the grass, picking tulips, chasing butterflies, riding a bike spring ever be again? How can we be sure of something we can only faintly see in our memories? The more it snowed the more blurry the memory of spring.

Goldi became confused as the storms kept coming.  Each day was different. School was on or school was off. Too cold at times to even go out. Goldi was unsettled. She began to pace up and down in between bites of her dinner. Goldi felt confined. She wanted to swing, turn upside down, climb high, and move about as much as possible. But it was sit and be still time after time.

Then winter brought sickness. The flu hit just on the brink of when winter was actually leaving. The germiness of winter hit Goldi and she is worn out, annoyed, uncomfortable, and frustrated. It is enough to kill all life in her. There has been crying, screaming, and numbness to anything that once made her smile.

Goldi needs spring.  She needs to have the wide open space to run and feel the wind comb her hair. She needs to look around and see the wonderful differences only spring can bring. She wants the “fly a kite, do somersaults in the grass, blow bubbles on the driveway, play hopscotch “spring.  Winter is threatening to lock up this girl’s  zealous, dreamy, bouncy girl’s spirit.

So with mustard seed faith, I muster up hope that I cannot see. The hope that spring will come as promised. ( even here in Michigan) I say – See Goldi  tiny shoots are coming up.    See Goldi- the sun is shining today.  See Goldi- the snow is almost all gone.   ( a HUGE accomplishment I might add)  See Goldi- I see a robin hopping around.

Soon Spring will arrive with all its newness to color our days.  Goldi will fly her kite. She will run barefoot in the grass. She will swing as high as possible. She will race around on her bike. She will smell tulips. She will burst out the door and relish in the arms of the sweet smelling air.  When Spring finally arrives, Goldi will be full of life again!

With mustard seed faith, the promise of that New Great Day,  when the Life Giver appears and the snows that wash away life, will forever disappear,  Goldi will be made new. Goldi will only have spring,  without the germs of her autism.  No more restlessness. No more screaming. No more crying. No more confusion. No more confinement. No weighing down. No gray. Goldi will be made new.  On the brink of spring arriving, I hope for what I cannot see. Without hope,  I am doomed forever in winter’s dormancy. It is a hope that I look forward to, on that New Great day, when winter turns to spring.







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