Changing Seasons

Spring cannot turn to Summer, if Summer cannot fall,
For winter's turned to springtime (my favourite time of all);
With mud, and slush, and rubber boots, things shift as winter melts;
Six weeks from now when flood abates, the impact will be felt.

The problem's with direction, not with the snow as such,
For ice from in the Northland is slow to turn to mush;
While in the South the ice gives way to torrents in the stream,
Then torrents meet those blockages and make a flood-plain mean.

He showed a little movie last night in sermon his,
About a son and father – the dad a running whiz;
Not that it started out that way – the dad had always walked,
But son had ailment at his birth, grew up and learned to talk.

The first thing said to father once he had got that far,
“I'd love to run, dear father, but I just pitch and yaw;
I do not know what I can do to solve this problem mine
So there's a gap here in my life, although the rest is fine.”

So dad and son joined forces and ran a marathon;
Dad started pushing wheelchair, while son just rode along;
They showed one race in which they ran, and swam, and biked a while,
Then finished in the dark, and YouTube showed the young man's smile.

The young man? You said, “Young man”? Is he still sitting there?
Is dad still pushing wheelchair, his running-shoes worn bare?
More to the point, when will this end, when dad has run his course?
For someday he could pop a vein, and then face his remorse.

For winter's turned to springtime, but springtime has not changed
Spring's great while it's in season, but dad must be deranged –
For kids must grow and leave their place of comfort in that chair,
And take on lifetime challenges – like pushing dad somewhere.

The saddest thing for parents (IM-HO, I'm quick to add) –
“Spring does not turn to Summer” (eternal spring is bad),
For fruit, and growth, and warming earth, must take the place of spring
 If there'll be harvest in each life, and harvest songs to sing.

So where's the ice not melting? Where? In those northern lakes?
How can we see ice melting? Release is what it takes
To set such kids upon their paths once more, see seasons change –
And springtime turned to Summer, and the calves turn out to range.

What if the problem's downstream, and Summer cannot fall?
Growth moves along to harvest (the sweetest smells of all) –
But we hold on to Summer life, won't let her have her day –
In error we protect, prevent, thus stop rotation's way.

Take Superman – the movie – he turned rotation back
To undo Loather’s madness, and seal an earthquake's crack;
Or day when earth stood still a while so Joshua could do
The job of smashing down his foes – make life for me and you.

Well, that's all fine in fiction, or Biblical display,
But here and now such stoppage, lets evil have its sway;
For life must move and seasons change, thus blockages must blow
If spring will turn to Summer, to fall must Summer go.

I watched them lay their hands on that young man's life a while
But blockage was internal – the reason for no smile –
I think the running-father did not know a better way
To shift his son from springtime zest to Summer's mellow day.

They prayed that God would heal him, at least I hunch they did,
I could not hear their wording, just saw their anxious viz.
But what if they'd pushed through the darkened surface to the deep,
And seen his need for challenge if he destiny would keep?

Sometimes the need's internal, (affliction won't depart);
Sometimes the body's damaged, but even more, the heart;
Rick Hansen had perspective right – “We all have limits, see?
The choice is ours – sit here and whine – or seize our destiny.

“We must rise up and seize it, if life is what we'll have,
Not sit here in our wheelchairs and ply our lives with salve.”
The list of Saints in Hebrews is divided right in two,
Which says that faith is needed – both to bear God's will, and do –

Sometimes there's intervention – God sets things right again;
Sometimes he stays His action, leaves us with death and pain;
Whatever is our lot in life, regardless if God acts,
It's up to us to buckle up – engage existing facts.

So what about that Summer – which spring has needs to meet?
Will she now venture forward, risk falling in the street?
Or is she still inhibited ’cause winter's ice won't melt?
Are seasons all backed up in life, thus blockages are felt?

Dear Lord, the blind are sighted, although it looks not so;
Restricted is their vision, so blindly on they go;
I know not how to wake their eyes, who pray for other's sight,
So pray you would show forth your power, do workings with your might.

“Well, Stu, I gave you photos, as ways to do my work,
For pictures give a blessing to supermen and jerks;
The impact hits when understood, once photos have been viewed
They can't turn back the clock for now their mind has been renewed.

“So get to work with photos, and thus communicate
To sighted-blind such photos, and then for Summer wait;
For winter is the problem here, that frozen land of ice –
Your task – a picture of My love, then let My warmth suffice.”

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