Smells Like Dirt

 On the west side of Washington, where I grew up, there is a special thing that happens in the air around this time of year.  The ground starts to wake up and the very faintest sign that spring is coming fills your nose when you walk outside.  Its the smell of dirt, earthy moisture mingled with rain.

  On Friday, my choir director remarked that right now you can kind of smell dirt in the air around Spokane, probably because of the warmer rain we've had for the past week or so.  I caught a whiff of this scent yesterday, and it made me think about seasons and change.  Ecclesiastes says that life is broken up into seasons, a time to study, a time to play, a time to work, a time to rest.  When I first read  Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 I thought that the "seasons" were specific moments of rest, work, birth, and death, but its also clear that there are longer seasons characterized by these postures. The past few months have been a season of struggle, but I'm ok with that.  It's pushed me in ways that I wouldn't have pushed myself and shown me my deep need for otherworldly grace.  There is a time to struggle, a time to get over yourself.

  And here's where it comes back to dirt: seasons change.  My season of struggle isn't over quite yet, but I'm starting to sense that hopeful aroma of dirt in the air.  I'm not saying the next season will be easy or hassle-free, but the redemptive freshness of a new stage is terribly exciting.  Somewhere down in the ground hope is springing up, pushing its way to the surface.  Some day soon it's going to come up for air.