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A Seasonal Letter

By Melonie Cannon

Dear God,

As you know I woke up to snow blanketing the ground again. Seriously? It’s the end of March. Did you forget that whole March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb? Isn’t that in the scriptures? Or are the lamb and the lion just lying down together having a tete a tete in my backyard? I need Spring. I need to feel the pussy willows between my fingers and watch the lawn change to green. The sprigs on the lilac bushes are filled with the promise of my face buried in the coming flowers. Right now I am tired of being in limbo and quite frankly, let’s just get this seasonal change over with.

Remember God, my son leaves home in less than five months. He, like the leaves waiting to uncurl, feels like he is in statis. All the energy is pent up waiting to burst into glorious adulthood. I have worked through most of the grief that comes from separating (that no one really told me would be happening) and I too am anxious for him to start this new part of his life. What will manhood look like on him? Will he carry those burdens as well as his father? You promised that you would take care of him when he is not with me. I’m holding you to it. We are drumming our fingertips waiting for the day when we pack his suitcases.

Guess what, Lord? I think I’m making the “change.” I’m easily bothered, cranky, and cannot seem to regulate my temperature. My children wonder why I am so easily upset. I cannot eat the same foods as I used to. I feel like I’m always in a state of panic. I feel like there is always somewhere I am supposed to be, but I can never remember where that somewhere is. I have cravings. I get cramps like a teenage girl. My skin flakes off. I want to sleep in the nude every night. How long will this last before I feel like myself again? How long until the change is final?

Do you see me visiting with my grandmother in the care center? She is ninety-six years old and all of the six teeth she had left got pulled out last week. We thought you would call her home two months ago when she went into the hospital, unresponsive and full of infection, but you didn’t. You are making her wait. Her children are slowly selling off all of her books and collectibles because they think you will come and get her soon, but you don’t. Her brown eyes do not recognize me when I come into the room. Sometimes she does not know I am there and I will watch her for a full minute in the silence of the room. She looks anxiously at the wall like it might burst open as the gates of heaven, beckoning for her to enter. She too, is waiting for you to come in all your glory, just like I am waiting for Spring –just like I am waiting for the seasons to change.

With love and in patience,

What would you say to God today?

About Melonie Cannon

Melonie has surrounded herself with beautiful words for as long as she can remember. This led her to find a home with Segullah after writing an essay published in the May 2006 Segullah issue. She was invited to join the staff and has been a part of Segullah in various capacities since, including being the creator of the “Words Fall In” podcast.  She received her M.Ed from the University of Utah and was a certified Secondary English teacher before becoming a Mom of four. Over the years, her focus has been on natural healing modalities and becoming a sacred sound healing practitioner with a focus on the drum, rhythm, voice, and vibration. She is finishing her PH.D. in theology and metaphysics to further these studies and help women to connect to the divine within themselves.

3 thoughts on “A Seasonal Letter”

  1. Beautiful!

    Today, I would say to God,

    I am at peace with myself but angry with so many things. My fingers and my feet itch with the need to act, to be heard, to make change, but at church I am always in the position of supplicant. I am supplicant before my auxiliary president, supplicant before my bishop and even the boys who pass me bread, supplicant before prophets and apostles, and most of all supplicant before Jesus. I don't want to be in charge, not really, but I am so tired of supplicating regular people who aren't Jesus. Can I lift the keys off the hook and take your car for a spin, just for an hour? (Listen to me, supplicating again.)

    If there's a place for me here, take this anger? Take it as my offering, because I will always see the injustice, I will always see the imperfections, my eyes will always be open to things that aren't how they should be. I don't want to un-see, I want to see with more compassion.

  2. I would say… God, thank you for storm cells, and new tyres, and for keeping me calm when I'm riding the latter in the former. I'm still tired of so many things, and if you could make your timing closer to my timing I'd appreciate it. Seriously, I would HUGELY appreciate it. Your giving magpies such glorious song is one of the most unassuming, yet glorious feats of creation – it inspires me, comforts me, and makes me see their beserker rage at mating season as an acceptable cost.

  3. Melonie, Love Love Love this post! The dictionary defines "change" as "making the form, nature, content or future course of something (or someone) different than it would be if left alone." (frankly, I sometimes like being left alone!) The definition continues – "to transform or convert." So I guess this process of "morhping" is never easy for any of us. Spring with all its beauty will always be a struggle until that great day when we find that "invincible Summer!"
    Thanks for a fabulous post!


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