In my corner of the world, spring does not spring. Winter lets go reluctantly. Spring hesitates, makes an attempt and then retreats, again and again. Blue skies, rain, snow, sunshine and sleet take turns. The friction of transition can be mildly irritating or completely exhausting.

My emotions mirror the weather. Spring is a restless, achey, things-need-to-change feeling. Some days I feel like doing something creative. Other days, I’m embarrassed to say, I do nearly nothing.

One day I wrote a spring lament. A lament is a prayer, poem or song that essentially says, “This hurts, God, but I am still trusting you.”

Jean Francois Millet, Puy de Dome, 1870

The sun says
it’s spring
but i am still
buried in dark
lost in the soil
how cold are the tears of the rain
of the rain and how frosty
the fingers of chill
most days still.
branches drip in grey woods
the mind saturated and slow
imagination uncertain
as flowing sap prickles
with uneasy quakes
so
i remind myself
to drink in the bitter rains
in the cold i listen for
the thing with feathers
i will trust in the faithfulness of One
who wakes us in His time
and promises glory.

(This is how faces called flowers feel before they float out of the ground. I was very much thinking of E. E. Cummings poem as I wrote this.)

When I notice a bout of spring unease (whether fever or fatigue) is troubling me, this is what I do:

Writing poetry or journaling helps. Writing is a kayak that takes me over the spring rapids. Singing (or humming) low-key, slightly minor songs helps. I actually made myself a songbook for spring because there are certain songs I want to remember to sing. And kitchen rituals, like kneading bread, are soothing.

I recently heard that winter is a state of being; spring is a state of becoming. Becoming is hard work!

No matter how deeply I feel buried under existential questions, the sky reminds me to look up. The sky in spring is a symbol of the glory to come. I relish the breaks in the clouds, the sunbeams that stream through, silver linings and deep shadows, the gorgeous blue. The contrast reminds me that life is made of all emotions. And aren’t they beautiful when seen together?

“There’s always a sunrise and always a sunset and it’s up to you to choose to be there for it,” my mother said. “Put yourself in the way of beauty.” –Cheryl Strayed