This is a season of contention. On so many fronts there are calls to take sides, whether it’s this party or that party, this theological position or the opposing, this side of a debate or another. It seems conflicts are endless. It’s exhausting, quite frankly. And part of the problem is that there is so much worth fighting for.

The bitter orange trees that line our street now fill our house with the sweet fragrance of blossoming. The winter wind that makes mild temperatures feel colder is warming. And trees once bare as the buildings around now bear buds, fresh and green. Spring has come. The season of renewing, reviving, resurrection. The season of rebirth. “Reneixament” in Catalan.

It’s no secret that our family’s move to Spain has not been a speedy process. There have been years and years of delays and long periods when the way forward did not seem clear at all. Now that we are finally here in Barcelona as residents, I have been mediating on the meaning of waiting through the perspective of all we have faced over the years to get here.

For several years my family and I have struggled and fought to follow a call from the Lord to work for His kingdom in the city of Barcelona, Spain. It has been a trail fraught with difficulty, doubt, and questions. But one frequent question we’ve received from others is, “Why Spain?”

There’s a common platitude at times such as this. As platitudes are, it’s meant for comfort, for normalizing something that feels so abnormal. It’s meant to ease the pain of the reality we are facing. And I don’t want to shame anyone for it, many of you have said it this week, many have said, “Death is just a part of life.”

In general, I try not to think or talk too much about things I hate. I try not to hate things. But of course there are a few exceptions (spiders being one, but too creepy to even think of writing about). To those who know me, it likely comes as no surprise that I hate yard work.