The view from my living room window. Fall’s warm-hued leaves bravely holding onto the trees, fighting against a heavy early snow. The sleepy sun rising from an autumn slumber, yawning and stretching its arms, embracing the trees, whispering, wake up.
But the leaves, they’re tired. The weight of the world is too heavy.
One by one, they float down, riding the blast of winter’s breath.
Summer’s bits and pieces gather into piles, snuggling into the soft snow. Robbed of the crisp and crunch, they congregate.
Some tuck into the earth, ready to continue the cycle. Others fight, backs arched, resisting the change.
There’s birth and life and death and rebirth.
Joy comes in the morning. Because a sweeping burst, sin and shame spring into strength and a Savior.
But there are growing pains as the earth steps free from the shackles. Seasons of pain and joy wrestle, pushing and pulling. Leaves and snow press against each other, tension building with each mounting flake, as spring waits patiently in the corner.
What a strange thing, two seasons fighting. One early, the other late. The whoosh of winter entering too soon as the leaves dance center stage.
What a beautiful thing that I can stand at my window, watching the trees peacefully settle into their autumn sweaters, shedding weight, standing bare, waiting to spring forth into a fresh and new and clean life.
Which season of life are you in?