Yesterday someone said something - I don't even remember what it was... but it brought back a vivid picture into my mind.

It was in the early 40's. We lived on a farm north of Bellingham, Washington, just a few miles south of Canada... small farm, only 20 acres, but that was enough to keep us busy, for Dad and Mom were running a fuel business in Bellingham. On clear days we could see the Canadian Rockies, and the snow-capped Cascade Mountains were framed in my bedroom window (although I could see them better when there were no leaves on the trees.)

It was a different life from today. A big radio in the living room for news and programs (there were some excellent ones, and we had vivid imaginations.) In the evening, my brother and I loved to sit on the floor in the front of that radio and be totally carried away by the adventures we heard.

Our phone was on a party line, so when we picked up the receiver to use it, we had to make sure no else was using it. When we picked up the phone, a live operator answered. We told her the number we wanted. and she rang it for us. I walked or rode my bike to school, a mile away... gravel and then blacktop roads, farm houses scattered along the way... no one lived close to each other (which was wonderful unless you had an emergency and needed to go to the bathroom!)

Trees to climb and hide in to read, cows and chickens to feed and gather eggs... dad did the milking early in morn and when he got home at night... it was a different kind of life... a good life...

We were seven miles from Bellingham where we went to church, and Dad had his fuel company: it took 30 to 40 minutes to drive into town... yes, in a car... the cars and roads were a little different then...

I loved spring, summer and fall...

but winter meant being inside the house... and going to school in cold, rain and snow. Freezing weather And when the storms came in from Canada, there were the blizzards. (We enjoyed those more, for then school was closed.)

Everything died.

Trees with bare limbs, creaking in the wind. Sad. No flowers... everything dry and dead. Garden area desolate.

Most of the time grey skies... once in a while a clear cold day with bright blue skies... but everything on the ground dead.

I would despair of ever seeing beauty growing again.

After months of desolation, the weather changed very slightly. No more freezing.

Still raining....still everything dark and sad.

VERY gradually, one saw little little changes.

Dad would go out and plow the ground for the garden, turning the old soil and grass underneath to nourish the soil. He would then harrow it, breaking it up even more, before staking out the rows... and we would all help plant the seeds. Not too many in one spot, not too close nor too far apart. And if Clio and I didn't do it right, a month or so later Dad would call us out, point at the spot where we goofed, and say "what happened here?" of course, he knew... but he wanted us to recognize what we'd done so we wouldn't repeat it again. Usually we remembered... however, we'd constantly tried to invent new ways of doing things... and it would always become obvious what we'd done!

Our backs hurt from hoeing the flower beds around the house ... breaking the ground so the plants that were there underneath could come up again.

A LOT of work, tiring and at times back-breaking, in not too pleasant weather.

I remember thinking as a kid: "WHAT are we doing all this work for? It won't make any difference. All of the stuff is dead anyway..." (One December, when it wasn't freezing, I'd gone out to the flower beds and dug up some bulbs to see if they were still alive. Nope! dead... cold... I put them back in the ground and placed the earth over them, giving them a proper burial.)

Perhaps you can imagine the shock to my unbelieving eyes, when things started to grow...those bulbs that were dead, sprouted up from the ground and became beautiful flowers!

the dead rose bushes started creating leaves...the limbs in the trees were covered with leaves and once again wonderful to climb up in and hide

and the smell of the lilacs!... I'd sit under those lilac bushes, have picnics there, or read.

Lilacs are still one of my favorite flowers for they meant life was coming back after what looked like death.

Ah - it was great to be outside and be alive. More work to do than I wanted (naturally) but also many hours to look at the sky, feel the sun, and my brother and I inventing games... Like battles throwing unripe cherries. My brother and I learned that wasn't such a brilliant idea, when the cherry trees didn't bear many cherries that summer.

I smile when I remember those days.

Then came autumn, beautiful clear crisp days with leaves turning all colors, followed by rain and wind blowing down the leaves, and once again, the trees were bare and creaked in the wind, and it was no longer enjoyable to be outside. And I still had to walk or ride bike to school every day, regardless of the weather. yuck!

As I look back, I now realize how these seasons taught me about life - and even emotions.

Over the years, so many of my emotions have been killed... destroyed...frozen.

I had places in my life where I thought I would never smile again... I was dead on the inside...

But somehow, I kept on going. I couldn't change my emotions. But I could choose to obey God, following His priorities, thanking Him for and in every circumstance, forgiving out of obedience to Him... and without me realizing it,

He plowed and harrowed the soil of my emotions, planting new seeds and/or reviving old bulbs... until one day I could see beauty around me where all had been desolate and without hope.

Even as the desolateness and coldness of winter made me doubly appreciate the beauty of spring and summer, so it is in my life. If I'd never experienced the desolation of hurt and loss and sorrow, I wouldn't be able to truly appreciate the depths of beauty and joy when He gives it to me.

I know He WILL keep His promises, for I've experienced so many winters and so many springs, both physically and emotionally. My responsibility is to walk in His will, so He can plow, harrow and plant and water, and bring beauty into my life once again.

I sorrow for those who've never experienced winters, physically and/or emotionally. For that is what teaches one to value what one does have. One small flower that once appeared dead, now blooming...

Key to Life:

Without sorrows to cut the chasms in our lives, we do not have the ability to experience the depths and fullness of joy

February 1, 2006 - Natal

Voni Pottle