When Mama turned the calendar page, my heart turned the corner. I seldom felt ready when September appeared. From the breakfast room wall, square patterns dangled the days filled with lists, schedules, and the lineup of a new school year.
Parting with summer always left me with a bit of the blues. Suddenly, our sun-kissed skin fades, flower petals dry and all of nature’s strength seems lost under piles of thorns, leaves and brier. Pools are covered, grills closed and my grown-up heart aches to conclude this chapter, parting a final farewell to this season.
With all the packing, wrapping and preparing, I feel the stirring anticipation of a new adventure on the horizon. Though the familiar feeling of a timid school girl, leaves me apprehensively questioning the unknown, arduous work ahead.
And when your standing on the threshold of transition, the in-between of what has been and what is to become, when some dreams unexpectedly exit and new ones emerge all in the same season; there can be extreme shifts in perspective, leaving emotions to swing between pressure and purpose, grief and gratitude, trial and triumph.
It’s called transition and labor is hard work – because bringing forth life is never exactly easy.
So, I’m embracing the uniqueness of a new season and choosing faith to move forward in the midst all the stripping, stretching and spreading thin. Because sometimes feeling displaced, is actually God moving everything into order and place.
Lately it seems I’m packing more than my possessions. Purposes that once began to unfold are being covered, wrapped and stacked; then buried in cardboard and sealed securely shut.
What once appeared as accurate vision has become unclear, uncertain and somewhat out of focus. Leaning my back into one heavy box, I sat cross-legged with bent knees and disjointed dreams, wondering if my prayers were being cross-out or was this change a detour for a greater purpose?
Folding newspaper around one glass vessel, I reach for it’s rim, gliding my index along the gold colored trim, and as I pause to feel it’s fragile, feeble frame; I whisper to God, these fragile, fractured feelings of mine.
Holing the glass delicately, just like my dreams, I must trust He tenderly holds my heart. Because sometimes real faith looks like a wet, stained face. For sometimes it’s through the tears, we see hope piercing through.
That morning sun came strong and as it poured light through some cracks in the stained glass window, it pierced my heart with this message. All that seems shattered, scattered and severed, will become a beautiful part of His purpose and plan.
Even the most shattered, broken pieces
become a shiningly, magnificent Masterpiece,
when all is placed, in His all-wise and wondrous hands.
We can trust God in the trial of transition, in the exits that look like dead ends. What was good for a season, may not be part His plan for what’s next.
So I’m letting go and looking to God. Perhaps this shift in direction is essential bring to delivery all He placed in you and me, to begin with.
Are you in a major place of change? Does the direction you’ve headed seem to be redirecting and rerouting you elsewhere? Then this truth is for you.
Scripture for your heart: