|Photo mine, please don't use without permission.|
Dead, lifeless, cold winter holding hands with deep vermillion, mango, cool fall?
It is where I live.
And at the same time it is strange, it is breathtaking. Yet, I squirm. Something about this feels familiar and uncomfortable. I ignore this briefly as my family takes pictures and we try to capture a good holiday photo. I love this moment, I love fall, so why are my eyes threatening tears?
Perhaps because changing so that God's brilliance is seen can be painful. Maybe it is the fear of experiencing winter...with a cold, dead spirit residing in my heart as at times it has. I vowed to control this...to never feel like I am not connected to God. To never be in that place where I feel far from God again.
Then, that familiar ache rises like a slow wave in the middle of experiencing this odd phenomena as I pretend that I am past all the previous trauma this month dished out years ago, when death surrounded me, funeral after funeral.
When I truly became aware of my own death not just after giving my life to Jesus, but time after time when I wanted to control something or someone...when the hurt all, but killed me. The death of innocence. The death of relationships. The death of self.
I wonder who wants to carry cool change and distant cold simultaneously?
I don't want to, but God wants me to...gently carrying it with me. He holds me/helps me when it its time to dig the hole. Something will have to be given its' proper burial.
A mix of trepidation and joy will lie before me as I wait to see what must change or die, but I will obey the one I belong to...I know the Lord is a faithful and trustworthy season holder.
|God holds my hand and guides me just as I hold my son's hand and guide him.|
Linking up today with these blogs: Soli Deo Gloria