Hope for the season

Something amazing started happening last night. As I left work I noticed it was different. The air had that feel. It wasn’t oppressive. It was crisp, slightly cool, it was the beginning of fall.

For this wounded heart, it was a gift. It was the bow on top of a present from God. It’s like he was saying, “I care about you enough to give you fall.” Those of you who would be looking at me weird if we were in person don’t understand my deep love for all the things fall. The way my soul feels better when I can wear long sleeves. The way my heart loves the smell of apples and pumpkins, and the colors and the breezes. All the things. And God chose yesterday to give me fall.

In the last blog I told you about my broken heart and so update…it’s still broken. BUT…God took care of it this weekend so that all the pieces remained. I prayed Thursday that He take care of my heart at work because our job is hard on the heart. As I walked out of work yesterday, I could marvel at all the ways he did just that. He guarded my heart, and He showed himself to me even in the midst of the craziness. And then he gave me fall. It was like a whisper of a promise. “See, seasons change. Summer has been long and oppressive, but seasons always end. Always.”

I don’t know how long Fall will stick, or if it will. I live in Oklahoma. Weather is very transient here but for today…

I don’t know when this season of life will end. I want to move on to something better, but I know in order for there to be something better, the work must take place in this season where the hurt lies.

And that’s the difference. Maybe that’s why this season is taking “too long.” Every other time I’ve ignored it, changed life’s subject or “sucked it up buttercup.” But the things are still there…the hurt, the disappointment, the heartbreaks. All the things. This time is different. This time every time I try to take a different path God pulls me back. He’s saying “no we have to stay on this one until we see it through”.

I hate that. And it gives me hope that it will get better. That if we stay the course, my heart heals at the end of it. There might still be a scar, but my heart can heal from the things. And there is sometimes beauty in the scar. It reminds me of a song I love by Point of Grace that says “Heal the wound, but leave the scar, a reminder of how merciful you are.”

At the risk of being weird (I mean like that hasn’t already happened), I feel like something great may just happen. I trust that all this is for a reason. And I know this hard year is not just a cruel joke meant to test my sanity but do nothing more. I trust my Daddy God knows what He’s doing with this heart, even when I have no clue at all.

Instead of running this time, I’m walking through it. I don’t have much choice because He’s holding me tightly, like a parent does to a child who tends to run off. (He knows me too well). I can see God’s provisions this far, so I can trust the journey. I will continue to try to find the manna in the wilderness. My heart will come out different, but hopefully better, on the other side.

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