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I. Hate. Spring.

There. I said it.
Brace yourselves, friends, ’cause I’m going to say it again: I hate spring.

I realize this puts me in the minority. That most people associate springtime with new life, re-birth, and beauty blooming all around us… but that’s just it. All that beauty bloomin’ is what’s got me wanting to bang my head against the wall right now. I  appreciate the pretty parts of spring as much as the next guy–landscapes in full bloom, trees in all their glory, the animals scattering about all twitterpated and chirpy. But I’m pretty sure I’m allergic to air. I know I’m allergic to tree pollen. And lucky for me, the pollen advisory is on “high alert” today meaning I won’t be breathing in any of that beautiful, fresh, spring air any time soon. I won’t be breathing well at all.

This is a season in life–literally, a season–that I do not enjoy. At all.
I would take a winter day over a spring day any day. (Say that 10x fast.)

None of this is blog worthy, I know. Just wanted to get that off my chest.

In all seriousness, I was sitting here, biting my tongue every time I sneeze and cursing the very essence of spring, thinking about the changing of seasons on a deeper level. (Blame the allergy meds.) I found myself asking, why do we so often resist the change in our seasons of life? Maybe it’s for fear of the unknown. Too much change, too quickly. Or maybe it’s because we’re in a really good season and don’t want it to end, ever! You hear me, God? NEVER! I like things just as they are right now!  We grow comfortable in our current seasons and don’t always give much thought to new ones ahead. I know I don’t, anyway. New seasons require growth. Necessary growth. Sometimes painful growth. No one likes change like that, amiright? Better to just keep the status quo. It doesn’t hurt as much that way.

Unfortunately, it’s impossible to control the changing of seasons. We can’t skip over springtime and head straight into summer just because spring is rough. (Speaking both literally and metaphorically here.) But what if we’re on the brink of leaving one season and find ourselves fighting the onset of the next; does that mean we’re stuck somewhere in between? Can we control, on some level, the rate in which our personal seasons change?