The return of Daylight Savings Time this week tempted me to complain about the event which interrupts our sleep, torments our clocks, and causes most of us to drag through the first few days of its arrival.
I’ve never thought the adjustment necessary.
For all the ruckus surrounding the changing of the time, wouldn’t it be as easy for those who applaud the extra daylight to just rise an hour earlier? Why include the rest of us in the quest for more sunny hours when in reality the time change only benefits a few? For the sake of commerce, we are almost all included.
But one thing the event does stir in me is the hope for warmer weather. Something about the annual forward leap awakens anticipation of coming flowers, chattering birds, and outdoor activities. The day’s arrival is like a trumpet heralding better things to come, promising the end of winter’s doldrums. And, after the iciness most of us have endured in recent weeks, the potential for a better environment is quite inviting.
I’ve already found myself outdoors after dinner, sprucing up my flowerbeds and eliminating last summer’s leftovers. I’ve inspected the bulbs left in the ground, trying to decide if they froze in the subzero temperatures we received, or if life will spring from their bulbous bodies. A couple more weeks of sunshine will reveal their fate. I’ll either replant—pulling out the old and laying in the new—or snip tops, encouraging a sturdier stem to bear the weight of the coming blossoms.
Once again, Daylight Savings Time, we’ve survived your arrival. God’s word in Philippians 4:4 tells us to rejoice, so we will, in spite of you. Make certain the trouble you cause is outweighed by the benefits. Because come November, we’ll turn our backs and our clocks on you, shoring ourselves up for another round of winter. You’ll be history.