A friend was telling my husband about his recent efforts to hurry spring.
Our friend and his wife live on a lake, and have a dock, boathouse and a wonderful pontoon boat. They host our church picnic each year, and the parish looks forward to that day on the lake.
This winter has been so cold – colder than we’ve been accustomed to – and the frost in the ground lifted up the land-end of his dock and set the whole thing a-tilt. Our friend, on one of the balmier days this week decided to dig out the holes for the dock posts and put his dock back into the ground again. The weather was so pleasant that it was easy to believe he could do that. Unfortunately, just a few inches down into the ground our friend hit solid, immovable, frozen earth. Nursing his jarred arm and shoulder he put his shovel away and determined to wait a few more weeks. It takes time for the work of an entire winter to be melted away.
Last year a woman I know who often has been in trouble because of a violent temper told me that that part of her life was behind her. She’d had several very good days, during which she’d been able to control her angry outbursts, and she was filled with joy that she’d finally conquered the temper that had caused her and her family so much grief. Two weeks later she was arrested for assault. Clearly, the work of a lifetime cannot be turned around in a matter of days – or even weeks or months.
We need to be patient with ourselves. The miracle in our lives is not usually an instant reversal of sin and frailty and weakness, but the amazing grace to live with the “two steps forward and one step back” process of working to change. That grace brings patience and gentleness, and we need both when we are about the business of metanoia – turning again to God. The warmth of God’s love and presence will eventually melt the frost in our hearts, ever more quickly as we welcome and permit God to enter.
As God is patient with us, we need to be patient with ourselves. As God loves us, we need to love ourselves. Spring truly is on the way.
Our friend and his wife live on a lake, and have a dock, boathouse and a wonderful pontoon boat. They host our church picnic each year, and the parish looks forward to that day on the lake.
This winter has been so cold – colder than we’ve been accustomed to – and the frost in the ground lifted up the land-end of his dock and set the whole thing a-tilt. Our friend, on one of the balmier days this week decided to dig out the holes for the dock posts and put his dock back into the ground again. The weather was so pleasant that it was easy to believe he could do that. Unfortunately, just a few inches down into the ground our friend hit solid, immovable, frozen earth. Nursing his jarred arm and shoulder he put his shovel away and determined to wait a few more weeks. It takes time for the work of an entire winter to be melted away.
Last year a woman I know who often has been in trouble because of a violent temper told me that that part of her life was behind her. She’d had several very good days, during which she’d been able to control her angry outbursts, and she was filled with joy that she’d finally conquered the temper that had caused her and her family so much grief. Two weeks later she was arrested for assault. Clearly, the work of a lifetime cannot be turned around in a matter of days – or even weeks or months.
We need to be patient with ourselves. The miracle in our lives is not usually an instant reversal of sin and frailty and weakness, but the amazing grace to live with the “two steps forward and one step back” process of working to change. That grace brings patience and gentleness, and we need both when we are about the business of metanoia – turning again to God. The warmth of God’s love and presence will eventually melt the frost in our hearts, ever more quickly as we welcome and permit God to enter.
As God is patient with us, we need to be patient with ourselves. As God loves us, we need to love ourselves. Spring truly is on the way.