The leaves were drying out
Turning brown, falling off.
Blooming flowers bowed
As they fell at the feet of fall.
It came quiet and subtle
It came sure and straight
And though accompanied
By many a fancy colors
It took away the greenery
The beauty, the freshness of life.
So the world said, “It’s all gone!”
Same the people said, “It’s all done!
Your life is over, your time is past.”
But looking up, I heard contrary
“Don’t stop yet,” Heaven cheered
“Don’t give up, quit looking down
Look up, spring is springing your way
Look ahead, so much more is coming
At you than what fall took away
No, this is not the end, it is not over
Winter came only as a forerunner
To prepare and get you ready
For the spring of your life!”
Living in North America, I’m amazed at the way nature responds to the varying seasons of life. Spring is the start of new life when hopes and expectations are high. And truly, summer does not disappoint as the sun sheds its warmth on blooming flowers that mature into fruits. Fall follows and all that incredible life and colors turn into shades of brown and orange and red – stunning colors and sight still, yet undeniable signs of the end of what once thrived, alive. Winter comes and cleans it all out. Freezing cold ensures that whatever escaped fall is frozen to the stillness of death.
Vivacity disappears and it’s all cold, cloudy and lengthy darkness. Life appears to have vanished and hope seems lost, gone for good. “End of the story,” the writer proclaims to every observer’s agreement. Yet, one thing that never ceases to astonish me is the speed with which life returns at spring. It as if these plants know that their time is limited, that they can’t live all season; they can’t live for as long as they may desire – that choice is not for them to make. Rapidly, as if in utmost haste, greens appear at the disappearing feet of winter, exploiting the waters left behind by the very season that finished them, to spring back to life.
Beneath the soil, far from the observations of everyone who could ever reckon, hidden roots soak up water yielded by its adversaries, dying snow and defeated ice, to prep for new life. As winter grudgingly makes its exit, greens excitedly spread out their arms to wave it goodbye. And guess what, no matter how powerful a season proves, it cannot last beyond its time. Every season rules in its time and once that time is up, their power is gone. The very lives written off as dead, gone, done, finished, wake up to grace days ahead with undeniable freshness of newness, to cover every surface with green, soon becoming a problem as lawns must be trimmed otherwise they overgrow their limits – the very plants that were dead for so long! Often, the very things the enemy or seasons used to undo us, God with time uses to remake us.
This is the story of my life, the story of our lives. We can do nothing about the seasons of life – like plants, it is not for us to choose. People may draw their conclusions about us based on their observations – and they are right because that is what they see. But in every ending, lives a hope that cannot be crushed by changing seasons of life. In the womb of every death is new life that cannot be terminated by harsh conditions – a hope that lives in spite of all: hope of a new beginning. And because of this unfailing, undying hope, I know that not only plants should hurry to live, every single one of us should not take any moment for granted because seasons change. Knowing that times are limited and beyond our control, we must learn to let go of things that tend to tie us where fall left us and hurry to make the most of the springs of our lives.
Blessings
Glory!
(Originally posted in May 19, 2018 @www.soarwithglory.com)