In Michigan and Ontario, it was the fragrant apple blossom trees and bright yellow daffodils. In Pennsylvania, the gorgeous light pink flowers on the cherry trees lining the lane to the place where I worked.
It was Spring, and I just get all—well, I don’t know any other way to say it but to use the word that owl in the movie Bambi came up with—twitterpated.
That’s it! I get twitterpated.
It was in February of every year that I wanted to quit.
Then one year, a light bulb went off in my brain. It had to be a light bulb because the sun wasn’t out yet.
The problem wasn’t me; the problem was the time of year.
I needed sunshine.
And so, do you. It’s a fact of life, and February, at least in my part of the world, just doesn’t cooperate.
Then, slowly, after a long, frigid Winter, the sun begins to peek out from behind the clouds again—just a little more each day. The evenings are longer, and the temperature hints at rising. St. Patrick’s Day is hardly a blip on the radar, and stores are whipping out bunnies, pastel eggs, Easter baskets, and more.
Nothing says Spring like Easter, and this year, Easter couldn’t come soon enough.
Journaling helped me see my discouragement and depression patterns and, therefore, helped me do something to change them. From then on, I viewed February differently.
I wasn’t blindsided by the weariness of it all.
I looked at it as a time to get a little extra rest and quiet. After all, I was going to need extra energy when Spring hit.
I planned unique ways to get joy, and when the sun was out—well, I did my best to get out in it!
I made sure to spend regular time in devotions and prayer, reminding myself that I wasn’t in this alone and it wouldn’t last forever.
And it didn’t.
I moved south and thought it wouldn’t hit me but guess what? When you are used to more sun than any amount of less sun can get to you.
Here’s the cool thing: I have a calendar on my phone and, even though the sun is shining now, I can plan for next year. In January, I write, “February is coming: Breathe deeply.”
Melissa Dawn Baker
Melissa is a widow, mother, gramma, teacher and counselor. She loves Jesus, her family, dark chocolate, cookies, books, music, and quiet. She lives in North Carolina.