Thanksgiving 2017

Until fairly recently, I hated the word "seasons" because seasons connoted change, and change is something I measured based on circumstances. But my circumstances, both internal and external, started sounding like a broken record. The so-called "hard season" stretched longer and longer, and I broke the anticipated snap with nervous laughter, concluding that  this season is just my constant reality: a reality that is often filled with meltdowns and breakdowns. 

But as I go through my usual coping cycle (akin to that of a 2 year-old) consisting of flailing arms and unrestrained yelling, I come to a screeching halt. Placing His hands on my shoulder, He reminds me that we aren't there anymore--we are, in fact, entering a new season. Circumstances may look the same, but I have changed. With every breakdown and heartache, He has quietly sown seeds of hope, and they are starting to come to fruition in the oddest way. Without me realizing, He has engraved an awareness that I know I could not have conjured on my own. I realize yet again that faith comes from the assurance of hope grounded in the reality of Christ, not my perceived reality. 

And I look around to see that I've outgrown my shoes. My clothes don't fit well anymore. There is a stillness in the air that makes room for gratitude and grace. Gratitude for the people who help me see that knowing and feeling can be mutually exclusive. Grace to see that uttered platitudes can still be filled with the best of intentions. 

On my best days, I hope to hold all of these things and let them grow in me. But like clockwork, I know I will fall into forgetting; things will start to look cloudy and gray. So here's an early thanksgiving to seasons ahead where He'll dust off and love me back together again. 

Remembering the recovery process

It's easy to forget, but when I do remember, it's all still very vivid: the pain, the cumbersome recovery process, and the grace in it all. I still remember not being able to tie my hair, needing the aid of my sister to even put on a jacket, and wincing every time I tried to slide out of bed. Although these things are relatively trivial, it still made me think about how frail the human body can be. It was also a very tangible reminder of the grace I've received and continually need. In our weakness, we can rest in His strength.