a love for all seasons

"To every thing there is a season, and time to every purpose under heaven..."  [Ecclesiastes 3:1] I had this silly requirement before we got engaged: I needed to know you in all seasons.

I wanted to know the things that made your heartbeat, the things that made you tickled or anxious or worried. And I figured dating you through winter, spring, summer, and fall would be the best way to find out.

Because this restless, doubtful heart needed answers.


We were married in the fall - September actually. And while I never really dreamt of my wedding day as a little girl, I always dreamt of fall. It seemed good things always happened.

It seemed things were possible and you had a chance to start over. A time for new beginnings, fresh starts, crisp apples and warm beverages with cinnamon.

And those leaves - my goodness the leaves. If they are exposing their brightest, boldest colors - surely I can too, right? 

So no, I never really dreamt of how that day would be but I suppose a little part of me always hoped, if it were too happen - I hoped it'd be during the fall.

And it seems fitting because the fall was when you first told me you loved me.


We were sitting on your parents boat, out in the lake, cuddled all close. I was wearing your blue hoodie. I love the smell of that hoodie.

And the crease in your neck. I love that smell too.

I was so nervous. Could you tell?

Because I could feel your heart beating on my back as I pressed into you. And I wondered if you'd tell me the things you felt. Because deep down, I think I already knew.

I already knew you loved me.

So when I asked, "What did you say?" before you said any words - I think you knew too.

You knew that I knew.


This winter was brutal. We were hit with snow over and over again. And while the darkness gets to me after a while and I crave to sweat and not shiver - there is something incredibly romantic about the snow.

There is something romantic about slowing down and drawing in. After all those new beginnings and fresh starts it's as if your body can just be still and breath again.

Snow days, as husband and wife, have been my favorite with you.

I liked pressing snooze and waking up when we were ready. I liked lingering in bed longer than we really should. I liked hearing you make breakfast and coming downstairs to sip coffee at our wooden table real slow, as if we were staying in a quaint B&B in some European town.

Snow days were sweet and plenty - like milk and honey.

Spring came slow and quick, all at the same time. I was ready and then I wasn't. I wanted warmth and lighter days but I wanted the slowness of being home with you - our street covered in white.

This season has been the hardest.

You said it around the fire to our closest friends. I closed my eyes when the smoke blew into my face and fidgeted in my seat and tried to listen real hard amidst the crackling of the wood. When she hurts, I hurt. 

I've wrestled with more restlessness and doubt than I'd like to admit.Though this time, not from us, not from choosing to commit but from me and my heart. 

I've clenched my fists and fought with Him. I've fought with His holy and good plan. I've fought with timing and purpose and calling. I've fought with seeking affirmation and approval in all the things of this world.

But this season I've gotten down on my knees with tears and palms open wide too. And you've listened to me husband, over and over again, as I process the same things again and again. And you've pulled it out of me, when I was quiet and couldn't find the right words to tell you how I was feeling.

So even though it's been hard, it's been sweet.

We've never had a married summer, love. What will it bring?

Will it be slow and still like the winter? Will we welcome new opportunities and promise like the fall?

Or at times, will it be rough and patchy and grace-filled like the spring?

Maybe it'll be all those things bundled up in one. I'm not sure sweet pea but come along with me and lets find out.