Waiting on winter to turn into spring...

As a single woman, I have my ups and downs. And I'm not the only one. I have these conversations all the time with other young women, so my craziness doesn't seem so crazy when I know I'm not the only one. But sometimes it gets lonely out here.

The ups are the days I could shout from the rooftops, my moving car, and any and all social media outlets for the world to read: JESUS IS ON THE THRONE! WE GOT THIS, Y'ALL!

The downs are the days when my attitude is sorry, no good, and very bad. The days when I feel like I suck at life. The days when I want to stay under the covers and feel sorry for myself. The days when a pint and a half of Ben & Jerry's Chubby Hubby is the only thing that'll soothe my achy breaky heart.

This morning was dark. Real dark. And it's been coming on for a few days. I can always feel it brewing and bubbling up like a storm. So I wasn't really surprised when all hell broke loose in my heart and head this morning right before church. 

I was ugly crying on the inside—and I mean UGLY crying like when Chris Crocker begged the world to leave Britney Spears alone via YouTube (don't watch if you don't want to hear the F-bomb casually thrown out every four seconds). Which, in turn, made me act like a butthead to those around me.

So after lunch, I made a mad dash home to take my place on my face. I needed an intervention of the holiest kind. I willingly laid myself on the altar of give-me-the-soul-lashing-I-deserve so Jesus could put me back into my right mind.

I always forget that going to Him is all it takes to turn my world right side up, to tweak my attitude, to align my thoughts with His. So I dove neck-deep into the vat of His Word this afternoon and just stayed there to marinate for a bit.

There wasn't a specific passage that led me to a conclusion. It was simply taking my one of my dearest friends Karla Worley's advice: "When you approach the Word, you're approaching the person of Jesus Christ." (That word of wisdom changed my Bible-study-lovin' world.)

That was all it took. I went into the presence of Jesus and He was there. And here's what I got: It may be hotter than hell in the middle of August, but the season of my life is smack dab in the dead of winter. And that's exactly where He wants me to be.

It's not a winter that means death or hopelessness. It's just a time when things are eerily quiet, when there's no growth, when the evidence of life and movement are lying hidden and dormant.

This isn't exactly the season that a spring/summer-kind-of-girl wants to be living in. But it's where the Lord has me. And He reminded me that I can't have the spring, the summer, or the fall without the winter. Because He meant for all four to be put into play in this life.

The good news? I won't be here forever. I have to believe God is always active and moving. He never meant for me to live in one season for the rest of my life. And even though this season seems longer than I'd like, another one is coming. It's on its way.

During this time, there's a lesson to be learned. It won't be the only winter moment of my life. There will be plenty more where this came from—seasons that will hopefully shove and squeeze me into the narrow-turned-narrower-turned-even-narrower path of sanctification.

So I have to remember that, in all seasons, He's good, He can be trusted, and He's for me. Always. Period. End of story. Even when it seems like I'm all alone and He's hiding from me in a cave somewhere in the Alps. (Duh. He's not.)

And, in the middle of all this, I have to remember what the infamous Eldredges like to say: "We live in a great love story, set in the midst of a war." Amen? Amen.

So here I sit, in the middle of winter...

living in a constant state of prayer...

standing firm against the enemy...

wearing all my armor...

calling Him faithful...

staying alert...

and waiting on the first sign of spring.