A New Season

Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.

—Psalm 30:5

There have been seasons when I’ve been dimly aware of the goodness of the world, but that goodness hasn’t seemed nearly as real as my frustration, anxiety, or sadness. My mind knew everything was fine, but my dreams were filled with broken images, and I burst into tears at the drop of a hat. Things feel different now, like the goodness is palpable, and the minor annoyances are just that, minor.

Being in a lovely place doesn’t automatically mean happiness—we lived in this same blue house two summers ago, after Aaron left his job at our church in Grand Rapids. While the sunsets were beautiful and the wind on the water was warm and fresh, I cried in the shower and alone in the car that summer. My memories of last summer are filled with heartbreak. Every morning here I walk past the condo where I had the miscarriage, the balcony I sat on while I watched the boats on the river, feeling numb and hollowed out.

This summer feels worlds away from the last two, and maybe some of the brightness in my spirit comes from having moved through those seasons into a new one. I feel hope again, and possibility.