For Everyone There is a Season

For everything there is a season. Autumn has its leaves, winter has its snowflakes, spring has its flowers, summer has its sun and its sand. It’s one of God’s many flawless designs. Watching one beautiful season gently ease into another that is as equally beautiful but in a unique style all its own, never ceases to amaze me. I always make a point of enjoying the pleasures that each season brings.

We haven’t had much of a chance to enjoy summer yet this year. Our time and energies have been consumed by all the chores of moving- packing, cleaning, traveling, unpacking, organizing, etc. But with the help of my mom I have finally begun to feel settled and- dare I say it?- at ease. So I wanted to take advantage of this positive feeling and do something seasonably fun to ring in our summer.

It took me two full weeks but late last night I was able to convince my mom to go to the beach with me and the kids. She had a mile long list of excuses: the kids will get sun burnt, it’s too hot and humid, the baby is teething, there’s too much work to do around the house….And when we woke up this morning and saw rain drops drizzling down from the grey sky and forming puddles in the driveway, she thought she would get her way. But I was determined. I lathered everyone in sunscreen and dressed them in their swimsuits, in spite of the looming clouds, and we all loaded in the car and drove towards the beach. The rain had stopped by the time we arrived. We all piled out of the van and headed into the sand.

The kids were jubilant at the mere sight of the water. They ran as quickly as their little legs would carry them, through the sand and towards the waves. Grandma feigned a smile. She insisted that we lay our towels as close to the lifeguard tower as possible. Within minutes Josie and Jamie were running and splashing and screaming in ecstasy.

Johnny, being a baby, instantly began to eat dirt.

Grandma’s smile faded to a grin. She was worried for the kids’ safety. We took turns holding the big kids’ hands so that they wouldn’t get washed away by the rising tide and holding Johnny on our hips so he wouldn’t go home with a stomach full of sand.

Grandma’s grin faded to a grimace. The water rushed higher and splashed up around our knees. Josie laid down and made a sand angel and Jamie attempted to make a sand castle.

We were all covered in salt and sand. Grandma’s grimace faded into a scowl. She was concerned that the kids were getting too much sun and she was running out of energy and patience.

So after only an hour and a half of fun in the sun we packed our bags and headed home. The entire family took a full afternoon nap.

The house began to stir again. Since the rain brought with it a cooler, crisper air we decided it was the perfect day for baking an apple pie. Now, most of you have heard me rave about my mom’s famous apple pies, some of you have tasted them, and a select few of you have actually inherited the recipe. I take great pride in the quality of my family’s homemade pies. So being surrounded in the sights, sounds, and smells of this activity was a welcome treat….especially since it’s something we usually do in the fall. Autumn is typically apple pie season but you’d never known it had you walked into my kitchen this afternoon.

Josie was helping Grandma pinch the edges of the crust into the pan and Jamie, sporting a classic gingham apron, was helping Mommy peel and core the apples.

Then after dinner we all sat down around the table, Josie said a quick preschool prayer, and we all devoured a generous serving of freshly baked apple pie a la mode.

For everyone there is a season. Summer, with its sun and its sand, is for mommies and kids with endless stores of energy and a thirst for adventure.

Autumn, with its apple pies, is for Grandma with her gift of baking.