seasons.

For me, it happens every year. I promise myself to be more presence, more aware, more careful with my words, more in tune with my surrounding, choices, and actions. I consistently fail. The terrible habitat typically starts in the springtime, as the first days of April creep closer and closer. All I want is the summer to start. I long for the sunshine, the warmth, the adventures that summer brings. I cannot remember of a spring season that somebody was not married. Four weddings, four bridal showers, four bachelorette parties, two birthdays (or more), countless graduation celebrates, and landing of new careers for my friends and family (which are also followed by the happy hour for landing the position, the dinner for the last day at the "job" of our twenties, and the evening out after our "career" has began). And all I want is summer.

For me, summer is my quintessential time. All spring long, I crave the sand, a vacation, baseball. I dream of indulging ice cream while frolicking down the aisles of a farmer's market. I imagine the lazy days soaking in the sun, immediately followed by the long nights of grilling kabobs and telling storers with friends underneath the stars. I stare angrily out at the last springtime snow, drinking my Schlafly Summer Lager like I am going "show" mother nature what time of the year it should be. I still picture the days of no jobs, no school, no responsibilities that the summertime encompassed; I imagine I will recreate that summer once again -- when bedtimes did not matter, because there was no work the next day. All that mattered was rest, relaxation, and deep bonding opportunities with friends and family.

In my reality, the commute does not perish with the snow. My office job, my hours on the freeway, my daily and weekly commitments seem to sweep the summer away. We book each weekend with a concert here, and a baseball game there. Trips to Six Flags, Forest Park, St. Louis Zoo... Food Truck Fridays fade into Saturdays and Sundays on the freeway visiting family. A few hours by the pool at my parents' house is a two hour adventure, followed by at least ten relatives and a handful of old friends dropping by to say "hi". It is proceeded by dinner plans and lunch outings to ensure I see everyone in my short time there. My afternoon nap on the lonely raft in the crystal blue water is at a loss. I end up back in the city less than 48 hours than before saying, "That was great! So relaxing! I love going home to see the family!", feeling exhausted, but loved.

I truly expect summer to be as refreshing as a cold glass of water after a long, hard run; however, about August I begin to tell myself, "fall is right around the corner". And it will be so snuggly, so warm, so comforting. Full of sweet cinnamon pumpkin candles and bonfires and s'mores. Apple cider and pumpkin-filled everything -- even when I despise the taste of almost all things pumpkin. I am convinced that we will just stay home all the time, and our lives will finally slow down.

Of course, this would be the time that everybody is doing a fantasy draft and consuming their Sundays, and Mondays, and every other day with football. We go from football parties to Halloween gatherings to chili cook-offs from each surrounding town because it is my husband's duty to try every bowl of chili in the Greater St. Louis area. And I end up in one big blur of life... and then I catch it. A glimmer of hope in the distance full of lights, and food, and family -- the holidays. I promise myself that this is the year that I am going to be completely present through the hustle and bustle and focus on the magic of the holiday season. I am going to give minimal homemade gifts for those that are close, and forget the rest. I will not get caught up in the corporate splurge of gift-giving, and spend more time and energy on ensuring that each person I care about gets a hand written note on parchment paper stamped with a nativity scene. I will not spend hours searching through Goodwill looking for the perfect ugly sweater, repeating to myself that I will not spend $40 on one online again this year...

And then I blink, and I am standing at a New Year's Eve party in a short, sparkly black dress similar to the women around me. It's January. I have no money; I am exhausted; I have gained ten pounds in Christmas cookies alone.

How do we do this again and again? I tell myself that I am live with intention and thoughtfulness. Last week I wrote about being relational, situational, and intentional; however, realistically I struggle each day with my calendar being full and allowing a season to sweep by without a second thought. My calendar is already full of 5k's, chili cook-offs, and town homecoming celebrations deep into the October month; I have already searched three gas stations to grab Octoberfest as soon as I heard Samuel Adams had put it on the shelf. What will my season look like, or more importantly, what will it mean in my life of intention? What could this season be in our lives? What are the choices we could make to bring about this upcoming season the way we want to live it, with more intention, more presence, more awareness? How can we live the way we believe is the best possible way to live it for God, in His story?

I read somewhere once, or maybe it was on a podcast, that it is not hard to decide what you want your life to be about; however, the real challenge is deciding what you are willing to not do to bring about that life. It is the way we choose to spend our money, our time, our energy. The way we choose who to invite to the happy hours and grill outs and bonfires. The way we choose to engage in the things that really matter and the things that we are willing to remove off of our list. Those things that we choose that are not important to the overall goal are typically the hardest, for me at least.

It is the decision the leave your friends at 10pm at the bar on a Saturday night, because you know that you will be sleepy for church the next morning (and you want to be present). It is the decision to go out to one lunch a week with your coworkers, but not four or five... because at $7 - $9 a lunch plate, your downpayment for that dream house will not be within reach. It is the decision to have a steady and consistent date night with your spouse, even though all of your friends are doing something that sounds awesome on that night, because you believe in the commitment and work that a marriage takes and have promised each other every week, no matter what. It is the decision to make the extra phone call or write the letter for somebody you have not talked to in awhile, because you miss that friendship more than anything else... regardless of the inquires about your Friday night plans, because being intentional with your friendship is important to you.

Whatever it is, I encourage you to take a moment, or even an hour, to explore what is important to you going into this upcoming fall season. Before school really starts, before the draft and Sunday football games, and before you are six bonfires and two chili cook-offs in... Choose what you need to leave behind and say "no" to so that you can wake up on January 1st feeling the most refreshed and refilled by love that the cool nights of fall and the joy of the holiday season brings.

quote credit :: bob goff, love does