Monday, August 20, 2012

Of Times & Seasons

Here we are in the final month of summer and I can feel the familiar panic hitting.
This is a common feeling experienced by those of us in the northern hemisphere above or close to the 49th parallel north.
Living in a province known for having snow in June and the possible return of the white precipitation in September, while meanwhile experiencing huge golf ball sized hail in the hotter months due to severe thunderstorms....these dog days are welcome.

Hot, sultry nights where the smallest breeze wafting through the window is a gift might not sound like an enjoyable time...but for every humid night in August there is a corresponding night full of furious winds whistling round the eaves of the house with punishing temperatures of -45 degrees Centigrade.

The older I get the more I find parallels between my life and the natural world.

We live in a world of extremes, a world of struggle and dominance and surrender.

A world of inevitability.

Spring follows winter.

Autumn eventually comes.

There is rarely any room for comfort zones for long.

I sat on my sofa last night with the front and back doors open waiting in the stillness for a breath of wind. The leaves hung limply on the trees. The air itself was heavy. A thin sheen of sweat covered my skin.

When the first leaves lifted, it was if the world sighed....and breathed again.

We lifted our faces and smiled in relief.

Anticipation is an amazing thing.

Anticipation is powerful.

It is so intimately linked to Hope.

The seasons come and go, eagerly anticipated for the changes they bring, the newness and unique experiences of a landscape transformed are a gift.

Today, I revel in the last days of summer: knowing Autumn approaches and harvest draws near.

The daylight lessens.
The shadows grow longer.
The frost comes.

Winter hits.

There are barren days ahead, darkness lurks....


Spring returns. It emerges from Winters grave, pregnant with Summer.

Change, transformation.... tilling, sowing, nurturing, tending, harvesting... the fallow time.

These are the descriptors of my life.

God himself the vinedresser...
God himself the shepherd...
God himself the potter....

Transforming me into His image, for His glory alone.

Let the wind blow....

I surrender all to His capable hands.

I trust.

I anticipate.

I rest.

No comments:

Post a Comment