I noticed last week that it was finally fall. In some magical turn of events the trees have started to change its leaves of green to golden hues and vibrant amber and even some in delicious scarlet red. The streets are lined with crunchy pieces of fall and the skies were the familiar gray of Autumn that somehow soothes my soul. And in December no less.
That's how it happens here in South Texas I just so recently learned. While for so many other parts of the country fall begins in September, we wait and wait and wait and December finally ushers in a change of weather. What is winter to most is our autumn.
Waiting. That feels like the story of my life.
I captured a bit of fall on Saturday afternoon though. It was right there in my Gramma's front yard.
I've been curious about how I might find Jesus in this season, especially since it's Christmastime. Where is He in this slower paced Christmas? Where is He in my loneliness? Where is His beauty in this season? Where is He in all my feelings of being left out and forgotten? Where is He in my waiting? I may not find all the answers to my questions, but I'm seeking and that's probably what matters most.
Yesterday afternoon, I took a few moments to rest in my husband's arms. The place where I feel small and safe and cared for. He has the best arms and the best love and he is everything I need. And I cried because this season I've found myself in feels hard and I'm scared that the next season will be worse. Because I remember the extreme loneliness that those first several months of motherhood brings because a baby changes everything. And that was perhaps even harder than the sleepless nights. And his arms didn't change anything about any season, but they comforted me in the midst of this one.
I know that no season lasts forever. Before I know it, the trees will be bright and green with newness. My new bundle of boy will be in his footed sleepers and resting in my arms and I will be celebrating this new life and miracle that God gifted us with. Another birthday for me will have come and gone and wildflowers will grace our Texas highways in blue and red and violet. Spring is inevitable - it will come regardless of Mayan calendars and fiscal cliffs and how many more tears that need crying in this December autumn.
When I drove away from my Gramma's house on Saturday afternoon, beautiful yellow leaves had collected on my windshield. As I drove away I let them slip off into the wind and watched as they floated away. Something about it was breathtakingly beautiful.
And all I could do was thank God that He had given me the heart to notice such beauty in this season.