I suppose it is elementary school age that we begin to learn about seasons, and there are only four to learn about – winter, spring, summer, and fall. And fall gets a fancier name – autumn – though it is still when leaves and temperatures fall. But as I’ve grown older (and older and older), I’ve discovered life is filled with seasons – school year and vacation, standard time and daylight time, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, and others.
I have a seasonal problem at home, and it apparently came with the purchase of this house. So I suppose, though it was never mentioned as I gathered information prior to the purchase, this problem has been long-standing.
Mice? No, that’s not the problem, though I’ve had to run a trap line both here and in previous homes I’ve occupied. This time, it is little black bugs! In mid- to late summer, they are found in abundance in my bathroom. I haven’t seen them in the other, small, bathroom – only in the master bath. I always think they are attracted by the usual, normal humidity level in that particular room. Soon after my shower, I find them once more occupying the shower floor. They show up well and quickly – small black bugs against the pretty white background of the shower.
The first few I see, I squash with my foot. I try bug spray. I sweep them up and they leave with the rest of the refuse. But they soon return, and are nearly impossible to get rid of! To the occasional guest who needs to use the bathroom, I suppose these black bug sightings are just more evidence of my poor housekeeping.
Now, don’t blame my mother. She was a good housekeeper, and she tried to make me into one, as well. But spending time cleaning, sorting, putting away in its proper place? That would all have to be done again almost as soon as I finished.
Such a waste of time! Especially when I had a saddle horse in the pasture waiting to give me a ride. I could step out the back door, whistle his special sound, and he would get to the gate ahead of me. No dust cloth could compete with that valuable time spent with my horse. So back to seasons? I guess there was a horse season as well.
Seasons change as we mature (that’s a nice way of saying we get older) and not all seasons of life are pleasing to us.
Yet, not one season of life can separate us from the love of Christ. He died on the cross, bearing our sins in His own sinless body, so we could have a place in heaven with Him when our life seasons are complete. Won’t you give Him first place in your heart today?