when the seasons blend

Leaves are beginning to fall with the slightest wind and they harden quicker at the curl. Shadows cast are longer. Days shorter. Morning's darker.

But Summer still remains, at least for a little while longer. There are still drippings of flip-flop-wearing-days left on the calendar, though Autumn's First Day is official in just a few more sleeps.

It's an in-between time when Summer and Autumn blend.

Like color, this blending makes something different. The process of converging together is a moment often too quick to notice. 

Sweatshirts are appearing and shorts-wearing lingers.

It's a play outside after school and throw the football kind of season--temperatures more comfortable for play, while sweat still glistens to make cheeks rosey and skin warm.

Apples are out and sunflowers remain.

Mums (and even pumpkins!) are resting on porches, while summer's beauties are still deep rooted.

There's something really special about the blending of two seasons--when we can't quite let go of the one and yet we're sorta reaching for the next, readying ourselves.

Right *Now* is a time before the true hunkering down and cozying-up for the brisk coldness of winter.

I think of my life and wonder what is to come. As the trees are soon stripped bare and I stand naked like them, I consider this time, and I breathe deep. Preparing.

In my own heart there's this incredible Joyful Anticipation for the unknown--a trusting for what is to come. A readiness for change. And yet, I feel this comfort in the Now-season of life. A peace for what is.

There's beauty in this blending of Anticipation and Contentment.

I'm discovering that it is here, in this thin place--where He knows the purposes of *Now* and *Next*--that holds such mystery of faith; evidence in things unseen, and of His power and purpose.

This is the teeter-totter of a little child just readying herself to walk.

This is the breath just before he is born.

This is the moment of anticipation.

This is important and necessary preparation. 

There is Joy here. And fear, too. Uncertainty takes off her bonnet and sits quietly, waiting for the door to open and a harvest of new blessings to unfurl.

All of these emotions are welcome and invited to take part in the *Now.*

I breathe in and give thanks for Seeing the color of the seasons in my life blend Beauty. 

I've tasted and I've Seen His rich bounty of blessings. And now I wait in patient, {Hopeful} anticipation for what is to come.



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Patient Anticipation

His excitement is for Every. Thing.

He doesn't even know to consider what *More* there is to experience.

The Boy-Man lives All. In. Now. 

We planned for it--a day at an outdoor water park.
He even counted all the rides, knowing there would be a lot of fun in store for us.

Still, though, after one ride he wanted to do it again, and again, and again.
He just might have been satisfied at one.

And after the second ride he wanted to do that again, and again--
Even after having stood in line for a long, long while.

It didn't matter to him--he knew fun had arrived, and he wanted more of what he just had.
He didn't think he needed *More* in a different way.

The father knew differently, though. He had a plan and he needed his child to be patient. The thing was, the Boy-Man just couldn't See beyond his Now.

He couldn't trust there was More Fun to be had.

He couldn't trust in his daddy's plan.

The Boy-Man just couldn't get beyond where he was at the moment. He would have been happy doing the same ride 20 times over. He didn't think he needed more.

He couldn't even imagine *More.*

I am the same way sometimes--I don't trust in my Daddy's plan. 

The difference is, I can imagine what *More* there might be and I sometimes live too far-sighted. My child-like perspective has grown wider.

To the child, where we went was his Disney World--it was enough for him. 

And to me, all I could think about was how much fun he'd have at the actual-Disney World.

I was anxious for his awareness of the great-big-World to grow.

Really, though, the Boy-Man's world is just the right size for him right now--
he is All. In. Now...and that's a beautiful thing.

I See...

There's Freedom in the letting go of what might be and basking in the moment of Now. 

I learn so much from A Child. 

Father, help me to be near-sighted and not to lose perspective of the here and Now. 
Quench my thirst for More and teach me to patiently anticipate your plan for my life. 

Patient Anticipation

There is so much waiting in anticipating.  It's part of the process, actually.  And I think there's so much to be learned when you really stop and think about it.

Hopeful anticipation for a conception.

Anxiously counting the weeks until the due date only to wait even longer until the cake is truly baked.

Enduring sleepless nights with trust that things really won't always be this way and you really will have rest again.

Helpfully guiding toward courage for those first steps.

Waiting for that first tooth to finally wriggle lose and come out, and wondering will it ever?

Counting down the days until Santa's anticipated arrival.

Wishing and hoping for that first real snow fall.

So. Much. Anticipation.  It all requires so much patience.

And then somewhere between First Grade and the rest of the years, life speeds on and you find yourself holding on and wondering: Are we really there?!


If we think about it for a moment, the reality settles upon us...

It takes so much for babies to be created and then born.  And it takes so much sometimes for a lifetime to be lived and then for life to surrender to death.  Sometimes it doesn't, though, and life seems cut short.

Yet, even when we think we're ready to say goodbye and we have given permission to our loved ones to receive peace and pass on, the anticipation seems grueling and we're still learning patience.

Patience.  One of the biggest lessons of life.  We won't learn it all from reading a book.  And we won't learn it all by the time we're 30 or even 31.  We won't learn it all from being a parent, either.  It's to be learned - a process to be experienced over time.