The Irony of New

Just a few days ago it was nearly 80 degrees here in Mid-Missouri. With the beginning of a new month has come a trend of warmer weather. We haven’t yet said goodbye to winter, nor are we in a hurry to shut down the wood stove for the season. In fact, there is snow on the ground today. We do know, however, that spring is around the corner. The sun is taking longer to set, and today’s snow is slowly melting away to be soaked into the dirt. Early spring is a combination of the excitement approaching planting season and the mild annoyance at the hard-to-navigate sloppiness of mud and muck. The grass is still dormant and hiding the green of spring and the trees haven’t started to show their buds, but I can still feel it, a new season is coming.

It’s the same in my home right now. Kaleb just finished up his freshman season of basketball and is now diving headfirst into his first high school baseball season. In less than two weeks, he will take his driving permit test and will be chauffeuring us around to earn his supervised driving hours before getting his license. How did he get to 15 years old so fast? More than ever, it seems that everything is a new experience and a new season for him.

Kayleigh turned 13 this past January. She has left her preteen years in the rear-view mirror. The cuddle sessions with her daddy happen less and less and the evidence of her changing interests and learning about who she really is grow greater and greater. Her passion for her friends and life pursuits continue to grow, causing me to to have to learn more and more about the worlds of theater and musicals. What used to be sweatpants and sweatshirts has given way to more trendy fashion. And don’t forget the makeup, now there is makeup involved in her morning routines. Don’t misunderstand me, watching her grow up and learn who God has created her to be is a true gift. But I can sense it, I can see it, a new season in her life.

Life has been a cluster of chaos these last few months and this past Sunday it caught up with me. I needed the beautiful stillness of the trees gently blowing in the crisp air. I needed a couple of hours to soak up the warmth of the sun and be reminded of its presence. Almost as if it is put here for my sanity, the time of year has arrived when the whitetail bucks have started dropping last year’s headgear making way for a new and improved set of antlers. It’s odd that a natural, yearly process of a cervid losing a replaceable part of its body causes so much inspiration, discussion, and sleepless nights for us boys of fall. Recognizing the need for some solitude and fresh air, I loaded up River, my silver lab, and headed to the woods. River was in visible need of some fresh air and the burning of a few extra calories that have concealed her beach body. She also needed the reminder that part of her job is to track down those natural treasures of shed antlers and not just track down cuddles and snacks. As I expected, she was rusty. She found a small antler relatively early in our voyage, but as she tired, she ended up stepping on a matching pair of larger antlers while nose down hot on a deer trail. Regardless, in that moment it made me wonder if the deer know and appreciate the feeling of a new season as they shed their antlers and begin to regrow their crown for the next year.

The irony of a new season is not lost on me. So many times in my life I have been driven by the thought of newness. Maybe you have experienced that too and know what I’m talking about - a new season that is free from the difficulties of the past, a new job, a new home, a new place, a new life on the other side of the struggle. A common theme of the human condition seems to be a pursuit of the excitement of the new. For some reason this year, the concept of new is ironic and enlightening. With the arrival of something new, it means the demise of something else. The Bible even speaks of this in 2 Corinthians when we are told when we become a new creation in Christ - meaning we accept Him for who He is, the Son of God - the old version of our self is gone.

We shouldn’t be surprised when the arrival of something new forces something old to the side or out of the picture altogether. Also, we shouldn’t be surprised when the new season can cause or remind us of the pain and discomfort we experienced in the past. Awkwardly enough, new seasons can find themselves bound to past events, both the pleasure and painful, in an emotional game of tug-of-war between joy and grief. An example of this would be Kaleb’s birthday. Each year it will signify a new season of life that will be accompanied by excitement and celebration. His birthday will also be accompanied with a yearly anniversary of the passing of his great-grandfather. Excitement and grief, while emotionally draining, will create the burden and opportunity to pair legacy with new.

The memories of past seasons of life and of my young children who were so carefree and innocent seem to be moving toward a place in a hypothetical scrapbook while I watch a young man and young woman take the world by the horns and march toward adulthood. In the excitement of this new season, I hope to not lose sight that it may have been the past seasons that have taught them how to love others well, respect others (most of the time), and recognize the benefit of hard work. While I’m eager for a new season in the woods, I’m not quite as eager to let go of the memories of my kids in their younger years. The fading of memories of their early childhood and other past seasons are much more of a jagged pill to swallow than finding a shed antler. In some instances, the new hurts. Sometimes we hold on to the dormant grass due to the recognition that our time with this yard is limited.

Much like our seasons in the Midwest, change and the continual ticking of the clock are inevitable. New is coming, regardless of our willingness to let go of the old. Oftentimes, however, new is what is needed. The unpolished pairing of new and old, demonstrated by the changing of seasons, should help us reflect on both the storms of the past and how they helped us appreciate how vibrant the colors of fall were and will be again. The memories of frigid winters of the past are what contribute to our appreciation for the perfect spring morning when the gobblers are losing their voice in the tree. Without past seasons, our excitement for the new would lack perspective and be impaired. I’m learning that the new seasons makes me grateful for those of the past. I’ve learned from past seasons. I can be better in these new seasons because of past experiences. And equally as important, the lessons that I’ve heard about from so many of my elders, I recognize that this life is but a short journey. I must focus on appreciation of the present and giving thanks for the trials and blessings of yesterday, today and tomorrow.

So as spring rapidly approaches, as the grass begins to grow, the trees begin to show us their leaves, and as the deer begin to grow back their antlers, may the irony of the new not get lost on us. New seasons are not guaranteed to be better nor worse, but I can still feel it, a new season is coming.