Last Year's May

Back in the spring, we had weeks of lockdown, in which we were not able to leave our apartments unless under dire necessity. Finally after 48 days (!) we were allowed to go out for one hour a day and exercise, and I couldn’t wait to enjoy the spring. One Saturday I went out for a long workout in a nearby park. It was a perfect morning, with wildflowers blooming and birds singing. The temperature was fresh, and the skies were perfectly blue. It could NOT have been better. But when I got home, I collapsed in my usual chair in the living room, and was overcome with sadness. My roommate heard my telltale sniffles. Since I usually come home from a workout with endorphins pumping me into an energetic mood, she was concerned. She popped her head in. “Are you crying? Did something happen in the park?”

I shook my head and said, “No, nothing. I just realized…I want last year’s May, not the one I’ve got.”

As I’d gone through the park, every wildflower reminded me of the previous years when we drove out to the fields surrounding Madrid to run around and take photos. But this year, that wouldn’t happen.

The grass damp with dew reminded me of picnics I’d had with the guy I was dating last year. And that was over. I couldn’t even plan picnics with friends, because of the Covid restrictions.

I’d already missed most of the spring, sitting in the window of my apartment looking out at the city I couldn’t enjoy, and now all these reminders of what used to be and *what wouldn’t be* this year overwhelmed me with sadness. I wanted the traditions. I wanted the moments I loved and looked forward to. I wanted last year’s May.

My tears didn’t last too long, and I moved on. God gave me the grace and strength to keep going day after day through the spring and summer.

But this week, I had a similar moment. (Hence this post.) Every day right now, in my memories on Facebook and instagram, I see all the photos of the past five years of ministry in Spain: five years of preparing backpacks for underprivileged children, five years of baking brownies and treats to give out at big parties celebrating “Back to School,” five years of missions teams who came in September to help kick off another fall of ministry with kids and families in our community.

And this year….none. No parties. No missions teams. No sharing food - brownies or not. No “Back to School” shopping or celebration (we didn’t know until last week what would even happen). And I wanted last year’s September. I wanted the “normal” ministry of encouraging kids that God would be with them throughout the school year, and the blessing of having provided materials for children who had none. I wanted to be the missionary I came to Spain to be.

To fight the discouragement, I went out to exercise (always a mood lifter for me!) and looked for something pretty to photograph (also a mood lifter). I saw the leaves were changing, even falling already in some areas, and I took a few photos of the leaves. I even kicked through a pile of them, like a child. I’ll never get tired of kicking through crunchy fall leaves, and that quickly, God spoke to my heart: “For everything there is a season.”

Yes, God, I know. The Byrds put it to music, and I can even sing it if I need the reminder.

But I felt the Lord still leading me to notice the trees, regard the leaves, and consider the changing colors and the branches baring themselves unashamed in anticipation for winter.

I remembered I’d read an article awhile back about why leaves fall: less sunlight produces less chlorophyll, and they change color and become dry, and the tree must conserve its nutrients during the winter. But more specifically, the article I read was about how deciduous trees MUST drop their leaves, or else when winter comes, they would freeze and rupture and kill the cells, if they were still green and healthy. And in snowy areas, the bare branches can support and “shake off” snow easier so the branches don’t break from the weight of the snow load on top of the weight of the leaves themselves.

Simply put, keeping every leaf would kill the tree eventually. So they must change seasons and let go of the past to move forward toward the future. But each of those seasons that God designed fulfill individual purposes, as well as the Ultimate Purpose of His plan.

And I realized that I’m trying to hold on to all the leaves.

I loved the purpose in all the former traditions and past memories and the moments I enjoyed and valued. But God has a purpose in the present season, too. His purpose doesn’t fall away or drop off with the changing leaves; He simply brings NEW purpose to the NEXT season. Shaking off the old leaves makes way for deeper roots, stronger trunk cores, and eventually fresh growth from every branch.

We’re not quite to autumn officially, but we’re already having cooler nights and shorter days. Soon we’ll have rain in Madrid again, and fall will be here to stay. I’ve begun to change my wardrobe to earth tones and warm sweaters, and I’m changing my attitude to fit the season, as well—the season and the purpose He has for me right now.