The Earth Keeps Moving
Sometimes, when life feels stuck, I have to remind myself: the earth is still spinning. Even if my world feels like it’s standing still, time doesn’t stop. The seasons keep changing, the sun still rises and sets, and little by little, life moves forward.
It’s comforting, in a way. Because if the earth can keep moving through storms, blizzards, and blazing heat, maybe I can too.
Winter: The Season of Quiet Battles
Winter is the season that feels the heaviest. The trees look bare, the days are short, and everything seems cold.
Life has winters, too. The times when you feel stripped down to nothing, when all you can do is survive. I’ve had winters in my life when the weight of responsibility felt endless — caring for sick grandparents, missing appointments for my kids, juggling work, marriage, and motherhood until I had nothing left to give.
But winter has a lesson. Even when the branches look dead, life is still there, waiting to bloom again.
Funny story: last winter, I tried to bundle both kids up for a quick walk. Fifteen minutes of wrestling tiny arms into puffy coats… only to have them both scream the second we stepped outside. We lasted three minutes. THREE. I looked like a snowman carrying two angry marshmallows back inside.
Spring: The Season of Hope
Spring is when the world feels alive again. Flowers push through dirt, trees get their color back, and suddenly, everything smells like possibility.
In life, spring is those moments when you finally feel a little lighter. When the burden isn’t gone, but you notice joy sneaking back in. When laughter feels natural again, and hope whispers, “See? You survived winter.”
The other day, my toddler pointed to a dandelion and said, “Look, Mommy, a wish flower!” She blew on it and then demanded I eat one. (I did not. I told her wishes only work if you don’t chew them. Parenting win.)
Summer: The Season of Abundance
Summer is loud, bright, and sometimes overwhelming. The days are long, the sun burns hot, and life feels full.
In my own seasons, summer looks like the busy, chaotic days of motherhood and nursing shifts — loud, messy, exhausting, but overflowing with love. These are the days when my kids are glued to me, when my grandparents want company, when the house is loud with needs and noise.
It’s tiring, yes. But summer reminds me that fullness is a blessing. Because one day, I’ll look back and miss this chaos.
Funny story: Last summer, I thought it was a good idea to bring both kids to the splash pad. One slipped, the other refused to leave the stroller, and somehow I ended up wetter than both of them combined. A kind stranger gave me a towel and said, “Looks like you had more fun than they did.” I just laughed — because what else can you do?
Fall: The Season of Letting Go
Fall is my favorite. The air feels crisp, the colors glow, and the world prepares to rest. But fall is also about letting go. Leaves don’t fight their fall — they surrender, gracefully.
In life, fall is the season of learning to release. To accept change. To loosen my grip on things I can’t control. Letting go of people, expectations, perfection — it’s painful, but freeing.
There was a day last fall when I was sweeping leaves in the yard, frustrated because every time I cleared a spot, more fell. My grandfather laughed from the porch and said, “You’re fighting a battle you’ll never win.” He was right. Sometimes, the only way forward is to stop fighting and start accepting.
The Lesson of Seasons
Life isn’t just one season forever. It moves, just like the earth.
Winter reminds me to be patient.
Spring teaches me to hope again.
Summer tells me to embrace the fullness.
Fall whispers that letting go isn’t the end — it’s the beginning of something new.
No season lasts forever. That’s both the comfort and the challenge. The winters don’t stay, but neither do the summers. Life keeps shifting, and we learn to move with it.
My Final Thought
The earth doesn’t stop spinning just because it’s snowing or raining. And maybe that’s the best reminder for me, too: I can keep moving, even in the hardest times.
So whether I’m carrying toddlers dressed like marshmallows, blowing on “wish flowers,” dripping wet at the splash pad, or watching leaves pile up faster than I can sweep — I remind myself:
This is just a season.
It will pass.
Another will come.
And through it all, the earth keeps moving — and so will I.
