A season for everything?

(I started this post in June 2009 and finished it in April 2010 - talk about spanning the seasons)

You know that song... To everything ... There is a season ...

I've been thinking so much about seasons lately. How "seasonal" things can outlast their predestined or preappointed life span. How the term "seasons" is used to describe periods (usually of trial) in the human existance. Now is the winter of our discontent?

I began thinking about seasons because of a white poinsettia in the window of my grandmother's living room. As is the custom, she received it (and a few others) before Christmas. (In 2009, it was a white pointsettia that inspired me to start this post...in 2010, a red pointsettia that remains in the kitchen window inspires me to finish it.) A well known and very common symbol of the Christmas season, pointsettias don't usually last until spring (or summer, in the case of the white one). Except at Grandma's. This lady can nurse a pointsettia! But still, when walking into Grandma's kitchen in April, May or June the sight of a healthy, thriving poinsettia is a little off- putting. "Those aren't in season!" "How did that thing last this long?" "Wait, is that real?" Somehow this vigorous little plant and this caring, nurturing lady have managed to defy "seasons". And don't I envy them...

In this age of social networking, you can hear (I'm sorry...read) all about people's "seasons". Battles with illness, hard economic situations, relationships in crisis, the expectation of a child, an upcoming marriage, the loss of something or someone.

I never viewed life in this way until the last few years. Each stage of life is season. Some to be savored and enjoyed. Some to be weathered and survived. Here's to the thought of withstanding and spanning them all...like Grandma's pointsettias.