Changing Seasons

I wish I could press the autumn leaves between the pages of my mind, encapsulating forever their shape and color.

I wrote this line a few years back, when my daily walk to class passed through a line of red and gold trees. Every day the sight would catch me off guard (morning light bursting fire-red into raging flame), and, sometimes, I’d have to pause on the sidewalk to stare at the sight, shielding my eyes to look at the glory.

The sentiment now returns to me yearly.

Have you ever seen something with so much beauty that your heart almost burst and you felt…pain? The pain of knowing that the sunset would set, the leaves whither away, the season’s end come? And, of course, no matter how much you sunk into the moment, the moment would slip away. It’s Ecclesiastical.

Life’s changing seasons feel like this, at times. The beauty in the present is so stark that we forget that when the sun sets, the stars comes out; when the leaves whither, snow cleanses the earth; when the season ends, another fills its place—with a unique beauty all its own.

And what about when it’s not beautiful? When the ice freezes your fingertips and your icy breath is labored? When the days feel long and cloudy, and the next season feels years away?

Lamentations comes to mind. The book riddled with pain and despair (conquest and slavery) and then hope and love (salvation and redemption). What did the Lord give the weary and war-worn, torn, teary, terrified people?

Hope.

“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.

The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord (Lam. 3:22-26).”

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