Un-Weathered Feelings

Within the past year or so I have written several posts regarding the sun, clouds, rain, or weather in general. I’ve found a trend.

This had me wondering: Why?

Why do I write about the weather – of all things? The insipid conversation that usually occurs between two acquaintances, strangers, or during awkward circumstances is not something to blog about…or is it?

It’s more about the unspoken conversation. The overall acceptance of when the weather is rainy and wet, anyone can suddenly transform into a major grump. People complain more, sleep more, and smile less. When winter comes, there’s this excuse to have shorter, less meaningful talks. And once the sun returns everyone chirps up with happiness.

What is this?

Since when did the weather determine our emotions?

Since when is our joy based on the unpredictable – especially in the Midwest – seasons?

Well, I don’t know, but I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. These seasons are ever-changing and our emotions don’t have to sway along with it. If our enjoyment is carved out after we glance out the window, than that’s just sad. We can hope in something greater. We can hope in something constant and never-changing. Our joy can come from a solid rock rather than a rarely correct weatherman.

Nehemiah 8:10 – Do not be saddened for the joy of the Lord is your strength.

Romans 15:13 – May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.

“What I am anxious to see in Christian believers is a beautiful paradox. I want to see in them the joy of finding God while at the same time they are blessedly pursuing Him. I want to see in them the great joy of having God yet always wanting Him.” A.W. Tozer.


On top of this, can we enjoy the place we are in now? Can we enjoy the blossoming flowers and showers in the spring, the endless sunshine and late nights in the summer, the fading colors in the fall, and the purity of snow in the winter? If not – then what happens when all the leaves fall off the trees and the sun comes earlier? What happens when you feel the chill air deep in your core?

My hope is for me, and all people, to hope in more than the wavering outdoors, but rather to hope in the joy the Lord has provided in the here and now.


I’ve Been Missing… Nature

Having never lived in a large city, I was always familiar to the idea of a town that also had local areas for nature – parks, running trails, hills…. I love nature but it wasn’t something I thought I could actually miss, actually long for. I’ve gone running here to search out any form of open roads, but it’s been without luck. On all my traveling adventures so far, they’ve been to cities with thousands of people, shopping centers, students in colleges. When going to Dublin, this was no different.

My friend and I decided we needed a change of scenery – away from all the people, all the bars, all the stores. We needed nature. After choosing a day trip to Wicklow, a town just south of Dublin, we slowly became more excited. This was the day I looked forward to the most.

And it prevailed. While we were mostly on a coach tour bus and it was snowing or hailing most of the time, there was still time to walk through the valleys, past lakes, sheep – stepping into nature.

I was also able to see the power of prayer at work on this day. For my level of excitement to be so high, the weather was a complete letdown. The tour went past a waterfall in the mountains, but due to the snow we were unable to see it. I was bummed so I began praying. Praying that when we stepped out of the coach, the sun would shine, allowing us the enjoyment of our 45 minutes outside. The skies grew grimmer, but low-and-behold, when we stepped out of the bus, the winds died down, the sun came through, and it was a beautiful time. Only seconds after getting back on the bus from our walk, the clouds darkened and the snow returned, but for that short time it was perfect.

Don’t doubt the photos, it was that sunny out when we were outside.

I’m a nature-lover.

xx

Image

Image

Image

Image