Gentle Reader,
Turn your eyes upon Jesus.
It’s not easy.
Not tonight.
But I try.
Kate directs us to: season.
Go.
Advent season. My favorite. The candle of hope flickers on the table. Warm light spreads. Shadows dance. The bright pierces the dark. Always pushing through.
Winter season. Snow and ice. People can’t figure out how to drive. Skids and slush. Tempers flare. I keep pace with the car in the lane beside me to keep him from passing. Yes. I am that woman. Flakes descend to earth in nature’s ballet.
Seasonings. Pepper, salt, onion, garlic. Bowls of steaming ministroni. Soft noodles, perfect carrots. I eat, but wonder if I should.
Struggle season. The stomach is unhappy. I never know how it will react. I take the pill, but it doesn’t last long enough. Nauseous in the morning or nauseous at night. My choice. What a choice.
Convergence. My patience flickers, like that candle. I am distracted. Tired. Haven’t slept well in months. Swollen liver. Pain. Food is an enemy.
Slow down. The Spirit says it, deep inside my heart. In that place where He pours out grace. The grace I can never deserve. Look at the sunlight glinting off the ice. See the deer scurry across the road. Foot off the gas pedal. Smile at him. Call her. Be in this moment or miss the tiny, hidden blessings.
My favorite time of year and the constant rebellion of my body combine in that bittersweet mix that is life on this earth. The ache reminds me to look, to anticipate, to remember. He is here. This is not all there is.
Stop.
