Robins in the Snow

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.

—Ecclesiastes 3:1

If you live in the surrounding area of Washington, DC, you saw it. And while your perspective may differ from mine, you still saw it.

A winter storm that halted business as usual on Thursday laid several inches of beautiful glistening snow across our region. Yeah, that’s where we may differ. “Beautiful?” you question, “It’s March! Shouldn’t winter have packed its bags by now?”

Well, maybe. But technically winter is still on the clock…uh, calendar. And winter was still on the ground on Friday and into Saturday. I have the photos to prove it. From my vantage point on Friday, the snow was gorgeous. From the inside of my warm house, looking out the window, I admired the fluffy white blanket and captured a few shots. I watched children sledding down a tremendous hill and heard their laughter in the distance, as it rang out across the field. The Norman Rockwell scene begged me to join in, but I didn’t. Beautiful, yes, but too cold for me.

On Saturday morning the sun arose brighter and warmer than usual. I peered out my window to behold shimmering diamonds strewn across the lawn. And something else. A flutter. And another and another. Flashes of orange and grayish-brown. Robins! They’ve arrived! The first sign of spring. Yay!

Then my heart sank. I realized for spring to come, winter must leave. My beautiful expanse of white must dissolve into the landscape. My sparkly diamonds must disappear. I didn’t want to say goodbye to the spectacular view just yet.

But unless it goes away, perky yellow daffodils will not arrive. And forsythia won’t bloom. And lilacs won’t blossom. I reasoned with myself. And you won’t be able to remove your coat.

Okay, I agreed. I’ll say goodbye to the snow to welcome the spring. And I watched as the enormous blanket of white shrank and shrank—until all that remained were patches of white—and dozens of energetic robins pecking at the muddy ground, foraging for food.

Transitioning from one season to the next can be exhilarating, yet difficult. We may object to the change. We may refuse to accept it. We may stomp our feet and fight to keep things as is. But the truth of the matter is seasons come and go, whether we like it or not. And the challenge is recognizing the beauty in every season.

All three of my children married within four years, first my son and then my two daughters within four months of each other. I remember preparing for the last wedding while my heart was objecting. I addressed invitations and addressed God in tears. She’s too young to get married! I cried. I’m not ready to say goodbye. I’m not ready to be alone.

While God heard my cries, He didn’t stop the wedding. It went as planned. I applauded along with everyone else when the minister pronounced them “man and wife.” And I watched as the happy couple waved goodbye, a flash of sparkly white shrinking in the distance.

I waved back, but it was difficult to smile. Although happy for them, I felt my world falling apart. Being a mother was the biggest part of my identity, and now my role was changing.

While I will always be a mother, I no longer parent (at least, I try not to). I removed that coat because it’s a new season. And because it's time to put on a lighter one for grandparenting.

Each climatic season is beautiful, and so are the seasons of life. And with each new season, God has planned a new activity for us. But we have to let go of the current season to embrace the beauty of the next. 

I can't say this season of my life has been easy. Just yesterday the happy couple celebrated their two-year anniversary. And only now can I recognize the beauty in the transition. Now I see the robins in the snow.

Do you see them?

Dear God, thank You for hearing my cries and never leaving my side as I face challenging changes. Thank You for the activities You have planned for each season of my life. Give me the strength to let go of the old to move on to the new. And give me eyes to see the beauty in the transition—robins in the snow. Amen.