Damn Groundhog

I sent a text to a bff this morning, “Even the damn groundhog let us down.” 

Truthfully, it wasn’t really about the groundhog but rather the metaphor we see good ‘ole Phil as: a beacon of hope. 

I think most of us went to bed Friday night with some deeply-rooted innate desire for the turn of a calendar date to somehow box up the nightmare that was January 2025. I woke up on February 1st hopeful; a relatively slow start to a crisp Saturday, tasty coffee with kids playing, and anticipated that since the business week was done, perhaps no more ridiculous executive orders could be issued and maybe planes could stay safely in the sky. 

We all know how long that lasted. 

Then, as the famed woodchuck emerged from his den to see his shadow this morning, it was like a gut-punch reminding us that this winter we’re in is allegedly going to linger. I don’t put my faith in a ground-dwelling rodent, but it was disappointing to see nonetheless. 

Any glimmer of optimism is a welcome commodity during this dark, uncertain, and horribly precarious season of unrest we’re enduring as a nation. It’s so unsettling, I have to force myself into basic ideologies like “just do the next right thing” or “one step at a time.” I certainly have to stay off social media and the news. And ultimately, I have to drive myself back to the true giver of anything good.

I’m not going to launch into the over-fatigued promises in Jeremiah 29, or Joseph’s troubles at the hands of his brothers, or even Job’s endurance through trials he didn’t deserve. While those stories have ample value and merit, I know if I’m weary from their being quoted repeatedly, others likely are too. 

Instead, I’m going to quote a bit of Pam Flatt theology and remind us all of Romans 15:13: 

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. (NIV)

She chose and claimed this powerful verse when dad was sick and waiting for a liver transplant. If you’ve ever had the experience of waiting for a living organ transplant, you know the daunting exercise in patience and perseverance it is. Setbacks were nearly constant and it wouldn’t take long to lose sight of what mattered. 

The beauty of the above verse is that it doesn’t really put the burden of hope on the person reading it - it puts hope in the hands of God and the Holy Spirit. All we have to remember and plug into the giver of that decidedly joyful and peaceful hope. 

So as 2025 continues to pelt us with unknowns and chaos, may we find it’s best to redirect our source of hope from the changing seasons or calendar dates to the one that gives us what we ultimately need.