In the George R.R. Martin novel series, A Song of Ice and Fire, later adapted into the popular TV series, Game of Thrones, the motto of one of the families is a foreboding warning – “Winter is Coming.”  It is a warning to always be prepared and to be vigilant for the coming of winter, which will be long and difficult.  It is a reminder that even in the good times, dark and difficult days lie ahead.

When we lived in the Middle East I always thought that a more fitting warning was “Summer is coming.” The winter in the Middle East is heavenly – bright and cool sunny days give way to clear crisp nights.  Winters are filled with desert camping underneath brilliant stars and beachside barbeques.  It is perfect.  But as the winter months fade, summer comes on with a vengeance with summer temperatures exceeding 50 degrees Celsius (122 degrees Fahrenheit) with thick humidity along the coast.  It is brutal and it catches you by surprise every year.  I remember humming along pleasantly through February, March, April, and May, only to be hit with the heat like a sucker punch by the end of May. By June it is basically too hot to go outside and the summer months are spent crammed indoors waiting out the blistering temperatures.

This was my first year living through a real winter (even then it is France so it is not a real winter in comparison to other places).   I grew up in Florida and then lived for nearly a decade in the Middle East.  I am used to heat.  I am used to sun.  I am not used to cold and dark.  Since we moved to France in October, it has seemed like I have not really seen the sun. Most days have been dark and overcast. It has rained perpetually for days.  Unlike in Saudi, I have eagerly anticipated summer this year. All the trees stood bare and skeletal without any hint of life.  They matched what I have often felt like inside since Henry died – empty, void of color or life, and without hope of ever being green again.  I would look at the seemingly dead cherry tree in our yard and think, “Yep. That’s me.  That is exactly how I feel – spindly lifeless branches that once held sweet fruit, but now are bare and dead.”  Since Henry died, I have often felt like that bare cherry tree.  I imagine that to an extent, I will always feel like that.  I lost my son and it is painful.  The pain eases at times, but it is always there, to be revived by a memory, or a smell, or a sound.  I can see an ear of corn and remember Henry proudly holding up his corn on the cob high above his head on the 4^thof July just one month before he died.  I can see it and experience the loss of him all over again.  That is part of grief.  Things are no longer happy or sad, good or bad, but a strange mix of ambiguity.

But there was one thing that I didn’t know.  The tree wasn’t dead.  Not by a long shot.  Hidden deep within the tree were tiny buds waiting for the just the right moment. It was like magic, like someone had flipped a switch.  The tree went from bare and seemingly lifeless to exploding with vibrant blossoms. Life was always there, just hidden. The blossoms spoke of promises yet to be fulfilled, of sweet and perfect fruit, yet to be tasted.

One day in March, we sat outside on our Saudi picnic rug, under our perfect French cherry tree, and had a picnic in the Japanese Hanami style – enjoying the transient beauty of cherry blossoms.

We ate sandwiches, and drank wine, and lay flat on our backs looking up through the perfect white blossoms into the blue sky beyond.

Within a few weeks the flowers were gone to be replaced by growing cherries.  It happened so quickly that you could almost miss it.

The sudden appearance of flowers where there had previously only been emptiness and gray reminded me of the promise of the Gospel.  Jesus came to a world in winter, dark with sin and loss.  He came to a world devoid of love where might is right and love is foolish.  He loved humanity with a sacrificial love and gave himself for humanity.  Romans 5:8 says, “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this; While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”  Jesus loved in a seemingly foolish way.  Many people love their friends or family.  Jesus loved his enemies and he calls us to do the same.  Jesus hung on a cross and told the thief beside him, “Today you will be with me in paradise.”  Luke 23:43.

The Gospel message says that the story isn’t over.  This isn’t all there is.  Summer is coming in all its glory.  A day will come when death is vanquished forever and all tears are wiped away.  A day is coming when we will see face to face and know all things fully.  Life is full of suffering and loss.  Winter is inevitable.  But the death and resurrection of Jesus give us hope that summer is coming.  A day is coming when we will sit in the radiant summer light of a holy and righteous God who shines with a brilliance so bright that we will not be able to look.  We will stand in the warm summer sun worshiping a God who loved us so much that he willingly shared in our suffering so that we might share in his glory. Summer is coming!  Summer is coming!  Thank God almighty that summer is coming!