Cooler weather is coming. Despite the fact that the high is consistently 90 degrees throughout the month of September, we know the chill will begin to creep in.
Rainy days are a preview. The rain is just cool enough to chill your bones as you pass from rain to air conditioning.
So I sit in my corner chair. Criss-cross applesauce. Snowflake pajama pants. Oversized, nerd-prized sweatshirt. Green, moose-covered socks with brakes (as my uncle would call them).
A nap will be nice. I'll get to that, I am quite certain.
But for a minute or two more, I want to sit, listen, find meaning in the rain.
It is pinging off of the roof and echoing down the water heater shaft next to my bed.
Thunder rolls in the distance and gently pulses in my chest.
The leaves flicker with the repetitive impact of rain droplets.
Everything is darker. Deeper. Richer. Saturated.
The leaves are not quite as brightly tinted as they were a few weeks ago. It takes me a solid minute of observation, but I realize that they are beginning to change. Soon their death will be a brilliant display on every corner and in every wooded view.
The rain makes life heavy. Limbs droop with the weight of water.
Change is coming. And a painful change at that.
The warmth of the sun will likely slip away even as this shower ends. The powerful rays absorbed for nutrition will weaken gradually. What is now green and thriving will begin to starve and fade.
And such is life. Not meant for homeostasis. Not meant for status quo. Not meant to stagnate.
Soon, death. And after that, new life. Though death is most certainly necessary first.
My eyelids get heavy. I am lulled to sleep by the plinking of water on the roof over my head.
And I give thanks.
For said roof.
For those with whom I am richly blessed to share it.
For one year and three weeks of life under this roof.
For change.
For the painful, refining moments of the last year and three weeks.
For seasons of dreariness, monotony, frustration.
For the strain of saturation.
For life.
For what the Lord breathes into death.
For a heart awakened to freedom, gratitude, love, boldness and discipline.
For sanctification.
For change.
For all that is to come.
For the glory of today and of tomorrow.
For evidence of my Heavenly Father's faithfulness.
For seasons.
For reminders that He has a purpose.
For His sovereignty and handiwork on display for the world to see.
For seasons of weather and seasons of life.
For grace.
For direction.
For love and for joy.
For rest.
For Every Season.
Every evening sky, an invitation to trace the patterned stars.
And early in July, a celebration for freedom that is ours.
And I notice You in children's games, in those who watch them from the shade.
Every drop of sun is full of fun and wonder.
You are Summer.
And even when the trees have just surrendered to the harvest time.
Forfeiting their leaves in late September and sending us inside.
Still I notice You as change begins and I am braced for colder winds.
I will offer thanks for what has been and what's to come.
You are Autumn.
And everything in time and under heaven finally falls asleep.
Wrapped in blankets white, all creation shivers underneath.
And I notice You when branches crack and in my breath on frosted glass.
Even now in death You open doors for life to enter.
You are Winter.
When everything that's new has bravely surfaced, teaching us to breathe.
What was frozen through is newly purposed, turning all things green.
So it is with You and how You make me new with every season's change.
And so it will be as You are recreating me.
Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring.
