Reason #253
Today is the first official day of fall. Really, once September arrives, I like to go ahead and consider it fall. But according to my calendar, today is the "atumnal equinox." So I rang in the season by opting for a pumpkin chai latte, and it definitely put in me in the fall state of mind. Summer has been good to me. In fact, I believe summer has been my best season thus far. Full of life and light and more joy than I could ever explain. But now it's time for a new season. Really, fall is the beginning of the darker seasons. A season when things begin to slowly die and color starts to fade away. Earlier sunsets and later sunrises. And so I have come full circle as far as the seasons are concerned.
Fall 2011 was dark, the darkest season of my life. Twenty-four years of life, of relatively easy seasons, and then fall came. Death, in an unexpected form showed up, and grew rapidly bringing an abrupt end to a chapter in my life. Light was masked by darkness. Grey, black, it all began to run together. Bleak and scary. And the life was sucked out of me. As the leaves changed, so did my life. And just like those leaves, a slow and ugly process began to take place until everything fell completely apart. And I felt like those naked trees completely exposed. Leaves that were once attached, leaves that gave the trees life and beauty, that provided shade and made the tree desireable, were now scattered carelessly on the ground slowly decaying. Slowly blowing this way and that way, being removed from the tree's presence. And so I stood there with hideous branches sticking out in every direction. Bare and ashamed and unable to do a single thing about it. Crying too many tears over leaves that has drastically changed and were not going to ever return to their former state, and wishing winter would bring some sort of numbness, some sort of relief because the only option available was to wait in a dormant state until life returned. But who knew when that would be? Who knew if that would even happen? And who knew how?
But here's what I learned as I waited in dormancy. Leaves don't fall off in a day, and they don't grow back in a day either. These things take time. Leaves change. The color changes, the shape changes, and they weaken. Eventually, the leaves die and rather than hanging on to the tree, they fall away. They are scattered when death has finally been completed. The leaves no longer need the tree, and when that connection is severed, it's over. The leaves don't re-attach, they move on and the tree is left in a vulnerable state. A new identity, a new purpose, and the tree must now whether through winter. But trees can be tough. Trees can be resilient, and once spring comes, those little buds appear. Buds of hope. Certain that new life will be produced from those little buds but anxious to see what the actual product looks like. And, of course, buds open, leaves appear and you have a full tree. A tree with purpose and beauty. A tree that has been fortunate to have life return for another season.
And so as I head into fall, I feel hopeful. Grateful for another fall. Because I've seen that a tree, even a weak one, can survive through each season, and I know life will return in time. Time is of the essence really, and I'm just finally figuring out. Truthfully, time is the key to so much of the process. Growth takes time. Changes take time. And time will tell because it reveals truth, intentions, and it makes things known. So I'm thankful for the new life I received this summer. For the abundant leaves that have filled my little branches. And although I know each fall will bring changes with it, I'm not afraid this year. Colors might look different and I may find myself in another state of waiting, but it's okay because fall is just a season. A season of changes, a season of letting go, a season of vulnerability, but also a reminder of His faithfulness, an opportunity to create new memories, and a season that looks more hopeful than ever before!
#253 - Because He has brought me through every season and back to fall.
"Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing." - James 1:2-4
Fall 2011 was dark, the darkest season of my life. Twenty-four years of life, of relatively easy seasons, and then fall came. Death, in an unexpected form showed up, and grew rapidly bringing an abrupt end to a chapter in my life. Light was masked by darkness. Grey, black, it all began to run together. Bleak and scary. And the life was sucked out of me. As the leaves changed, so did my life. And just like those leaves, a slow and ugly process began to take place until everything fell completely apart. And I felt like those naked trees completely exposed. Leaves that were once attached, leaves that gave the trees life and beauty, that provided shade and made the tree desireable, were now scattered carelessly on the ground slowly decaying. Slowly blowing this way and that way, being removed from the tree's presence. And so I stood there with hideous branches sticking out in every direction. Bare and ashamed and unable to do a single thing about it. Crying too many tears over leaves that has drastically changed and were not going to ever return to their former state, and wishing winter would bring some sort of numbness, some sort of relief because the only option available was to wait in a dormant state until life returned. But who knew when that would be? Who knew if that would even happen? And who knew how?
But here's what I learned as I waited in dormancy. Leaves don't fall off in a day, and they don't grow back in a day either. These things take time. Leaves change. The color changes, the shape changes, and they weaken. Eventually, the leaves die and rather than hanging on to the tree, they fall away. They are scattered when death has finally been completed. The leaves no longer need the tree, and when that connection is severed, it's over. The leaves don't re-attach, they move on and the tree is left in a vulnerable state. A new identity, a new purpose, and the tree must now whether through winter. But trees can be tough. Trees can be resilient, and once spring comes, those little buds appear. Buds of hope. Certain that new life will be produced from those little buds but anxious to see what the actual product looks like. And, of course, buds open, leaves appear and you have a full tree. A tree with purpose and beauty. A tree that has been fortunate to have life return for another season.
And so as I head into fall, I feel hopeful. Grateful for another fall. Because I've seen that a tree, even a weak one, can survive through each season, and I know life will return in time. Time is of the essence really, and I'm just finally figuring out. Truthfully, time is the key to so much of the process. Growth takes time. Changes take time. And time will tell because it reveals truth, intentions, and it makes things known. So I'm thankful for the new life I received this summer. For the abundant leaves that have filled my little branches. And although I know each fall will bring changes with it, I'm not afraid this year. Colors might look different and I may find myself in another state of waiting, but it's okay because fall is just a season. A season of changes, a season of letting go, a season of vulnerability, but also a reminder of His faithfulness, an opportunity to create new memories, and a season that looks more hopeful than ever before!
#253 - Because He has brought me through every season and back to fall.
"Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing." - James 1:2-4