I haven't been blogging much lately, and though I'd like to blame it on the extreme busyness of the season, I have to say that it's much more likely that I've simply been practicing the adage often repeated in my childhood: If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.
Along with some other things, (that will remain unmentioned for the time being,) I've had a difficult time adjusting to the fabulous December weather in Southern California after nearly 6 lovely years in Tahoe spent shoveling snow and watching icicles form. I've come to the conclusion that winter is my favorite season. (This explains why I can live in a place where it can snow for 9 months of the year and not get tired of it.) Instead of being thankful that I will be able to spend Christmas, New Years, and part of January in Tahoe, I was focusing on how HARD it is to get excited about Christmas when it's 60-70 degrees outside.
Yesterday Long Beach remained around 46-48 degrees all day. It also rained almost 1.5". And in the midst of all this wonderful abnormal weather, my yard was filled with chickadees and doves eating, playing, and bathing. I decided that this was God telling me that His eyes are on the sparrow (or chickadee, as the case may be) and they are certainly on me. I can enjoy God's creation, even in the midst of the greater Los Angeles area, and God somehow enjoys me--even when I get caught up focusing on the wrong side of the coin.
I can relate. I had the same problem getting into the Christmas spirit my first couple of years in Florida. And I don't even like winter. But Christmas is supposed to be cold.
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