There's so much green these days that I almost don't see it anymore. Even in mid-August when lawns normally have browned from the summer's scorch, our grass is perfectly green. The mountainside behind our house provides a serene green background. The trees in our yard gently sway in the wind, waving their branches as if announcing their greenness.
As I drove the other day along a road framed by trees, the green suddenly stood out to me. So much green! So much life and lushness!
I've looked at it so long, I've forgotten that the view can be another way. In other seasons, it can appear dark and dormant and dead.
Sometimes when you're in the midst of a season, you forget that it can be another way. Lord knows that happens to me in the height of winter, when I doubt I'll ever feel sunshine on my skin again. And the Lord knows this happens during other times, too, like when we're hurting, whether physically or emotionally, and we can't remember what it feels like to live without pain, without the sensation that life seems dark and dormant and dead.
The seasons always turn. They always do.
I'm now looking at the green with more awareness, more gratitude, because I know that it won't always be this way. And I want to remember when the darkness comes -- because it will -- it won't last forever.