To the Summer That Doesn’t Exist
Dear Summer,
I always dream you will be perfect. I’ll dream that you’ll be long days spent on the beach, peppered with instagrammable adventures, and way too many iced coffees. You hold some of my dearest memories: from rocking out to Beyoncé at Glastonbury (yep I name dropped), to living abroad, to being the time when I made some of my most life-changing decisions. You encapsulate the longing for a break rewarded with sun.
Alas, this year you haven’t come. Yes, your sunshiny ways might have poked out for a few days at a time, but you have not offered that escape from reality. Instead, you have me riding this corona-coaster. Yes, I have been furloughed, and yes here in England we can get away, but the crushing truth to me is that you can’t stop what has made the world stop. You’re just as dizzy and slightly nauseated from this ride as me. It’s not the cancelled weddings, or the camping trip or even it being more acceptable to pour myself a G&T before 6pm. I think Summer you disappoint because this year especially I have realised that you are not what I expect. I’ve put all my eggs into one-red-and-white-checkered-wicker-cute-and-Pinterest-worthy basket. And now there is sticky egg everywhere.
You have never been perfect. Like all seasons you have been punctured with arguments, boredom, jealously of other friends grander looking holidays, burning in your heat and turning back to white instead of a sun-kissed glow and lonely days at home waiting for my parents to finish work. Because Summer, the one I long for I don’t think will ever exist.
Waiting for this disappointment to end will do no good. My disappointment about you is a small drop in the ocean of disappointments people feel. I am drawn to the story of two sisters; their disappointment in the death of their brother was far deeper and much more poignant than my frivolous dreams of a vacation. As their brother Lazarus lay sick, these two sisters Mary and Martha called upon their friend Jesus to come and save him. Not just because he was their friend, but because they believed him to be God, and being God, he would be able to rescue their brother from illness before it was too late. But Jesus didn’t come in time. When he finally arrived, Martha said if you had been here, he wouldn’t have died. Hurting and helpless they laid their upset and disappointment on Jesus. Not only did Jesus understand and listen, he wept alongside them, he felt their grief, he wallowed in their disappointment. These two sisters had pinned all their hope on Jesus; had he just like Summer been a disappointment? Not at all.
Jesus called for Lazarus to rise from his grave and so he did just that. A dead man walked once more. Summer, I don’t have long to explain the intricacies of this miracle. Even with the hurt, loss, disappointment of a brother dying, Jesus’ had other plans. Lazarus’ resurrection showed that Jesus was God. That he would be the one in the end dying not because he was sick, but for us. Jesus’ death and resurrection means that I need not be disappointed. That this crappy virus and changed plans don’t mean the end.
But, where does that leave me with you, the Summer that will never exist? It is hard for me to squash those expectations, the longing for escapism, a break. For one, Jesus gets it, he understands disappointment, he is not distant from me. And not only does he understand but he himself will never disappoint.
So to you dear perfect, endless Summer. You are just a season (still wonderful in so many ways, please I do not wish to offend). Jesus however is not seasonal; he is not disappointing.
Your friend,
Claire
Claire Dent
Claire is based in Guildford and currently works alongside Christian Unions in Surrey. You will often find her singing a tune whilst doing the washing up!