As the seasons change, there is both loss and expectation in the transition. There is always something melancholy about slicing into that last tasty garden tomato as I cut out that one bad spot that the turning weather and frost may have caused. The leaves fall and the grass turns brown, the richness of the fall color fading into dull and crumbling heaps to rake… or not. Oh yes, the earth and all of creation, choose the time to gear back and prepare to rest quietly beneath our sure and certain snow covered winters. It would be easy to stop too; simple to say that with the transition into colder weather I might just stay inside and wait for the spring to come. Transition is almost never a condition we would choose over the comfort of things we like. It is, however, our hope in better things that encourages me to look at the benefits that my own transition means in the grand scheme of things. That is the unique position where I process my mistakes, sins or transgressions, and decide how I might do better at becoming the person that God has always believed me to be. How might I encounter God in the moment and encourage others to trust and rest in the grace and love that we are all worthy of. The onset of the sadness of slicing that last tasty garden tomato does not last for long. When I slice it, I save the seed, yes even the hybrids, with a hope that I will be able to re-create that taste in the newness of next year’s crop. I mulch the leaves in the hope that the grass will only become stronger and greener as they compost under the snow. When I look at what I have done wrong, I also celebrate those ways in which I have honored God through my action and interactions with creation. And I do not hide away from the changes going on in and around me, because I know that my purpose in God’s mission can only get better and better as I learn and grow, and transition. How do you find ways to accept change in your life? I would love to hear about those things that make you sad, or bring you joy, and how you transition through your life.
Tomatoes, Leaves, Life, and Faith