A SEASON FOR EVERYTHING

 

Life comes to us in seasons.

Not the neat, predictable kind like when summer softly hands over to autumn or when winter eventually warms into spring. No, the real seasons of life come unannounced. Some slip in quietly, others arrive with thunder. They do not follow calendars or cues. They do not ask for permission. And often, they do not make sense.

You may find yourself in a season of grief while laughter still lingers in the corners of your room. You might be mourning one thing and celebrating another. It is confusing, yes, but it is real. That is the thing no one says out loud — emotional seasons rarely travel alone. They blur together like colors on a wet canvas, never staying within the lines.

There is a time to cry, a time to pause and wait, a time to prepare in silence — the kind of preparation that happens in your spirit, the one that grows in secret while no one is watching. There are seasons made for quiet prayers and faith that holds you up when you feel like falling. Then there are the lighter days, seasons that shimmer with joy, with laughter so full it fills the room, and with love so true it makes your heart dance without music.

Sometimes, there is peace — not loud, not dazzling, but deep and gentle. The kind that sits with you like an old friend and reminds you that comfort is also a blessing.

But the heavier seasons come too. The ones of pain. The ones of jealousy and longing and heartbreak. Seasons that sit in your chest and refuse to leave when asked. And yet somehow, even in these, there is something to hold.

Because life does not sort these seasons in straight lines. You may laugh while your heart aches. You may feel love and resentment all at once. That is not contradiction — that is how we survive. That is how the mind protects itself. That is how the soul grows.

There are days I wish I could bottle the good moments. Freeze them. Keep them on a shelf and visit them when the world feels too heavy. But life does not give us that power. We do not get to choose which moments stay and which ones slip through our fingers like sand.

Still, we remember. We carry our joy like a lantern when sorrow comes calling again. We gather our pain and turn it into wisdom, into warning signs, into prayers we whisper for others walking a road we know too well. That is what growth looks like — quiet, steady, often unnoticed, but always real.

We do not love only once. We love again and again. Because the heart was made to hold many. And in loving, in remembering, we return to the seasons that shaped us. We step into them once more, even if just for a moment.

And maybe that is the most beautiful thing — not the seasons themselves, but the way we carry them. The way they live within us, even long after they’ve passed.

Seasons will always come. Sometimes softly, like a breeze, and sometimes with winds strong enough to shake the soul. But they will come. And through them all, we will feel, we will learn, we will grow. And that, that is what makes it all worth it.