It seems fitting that the seasons have marched on. For as much as my surroundings have reflected the solemn barrenness of winter, I can’t help but feel its echo in my life.

Of late it has been like looking into a frozen pond and seeing a fragmented reflection. Life has handed some difficult assignments. Frankly, I would rather not have endured any one of them but the choice is not mine to make. It is what it is. Even so, my path is not the most difficult which makes me feel selfish in my misery.

There are those who have lost more and whose suffering will remain even past a season’s change. Theirs is a path I will not tread. I cannot tread. Ours is a solitary journey to make. Yet, in the days to come our two paths will meet and in that moment we will have the opportunity to be to each other what we cannot be to ourselves.

It is for such times that my soul longs for the whisper of faith and embrace of grace. Reassurances that in the midst of the bleakness there is hope. A promise that in the moment when our paths converge I will be prepared to be what is needed – not for me but for her.

While my life at times appears to be wilderness living, I am no John the Baptist. Yet, the song from Zechariah’s lips resonates in my heart.

…you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him. , to give his people knowledge of salvation through forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace.
Luke 1:76-79

My breath hangs heavy in the stark cold air. In its ebb and flow there is a visible reminder life remains. This life, this breath compels me to walk on in faith preparing the way for Him.

(This is a post I wrote a few years back but its words feel new even now.)

There is a chill in the air.  It is the breath of “old man winter” blowing softly in.  I am not sure if I am ready to welcome this change but yet, my readiness doesn’t prevent its coming.  I haven’t been prepared for many things in my life.  Still, they came ready or not.

The seasons are God’s gentle reminders that life is not intended to be stagnant.  It is meant to change and transform.  The living and growth often follows times of death and slumber.  Winter precedes spring.  Nature is His handiwork and a testimony to our hearts of His presence in all of creation.  Its wonder surrounds and yet, we still miss its grand design.

We live our lives so busy insisting we must do and be more than He ever destined for us.  I wonder how many times we have ventured far off the trail He has placed before our feet.   We find ourselves caught in the whir of a life out of control.  It is our doing, not His.  In His plan falls a rhythm, a season of sorts.  In ours, the cadence runs sporadic and wild.  Rest becomes elusive and purpose is disoriented.

We begin to lose ourselves.

Even more tragic, we begin to lose our sight of Him.

 You never go away from us, yet we have difficulty in returning to You.   Come, Lord, stir us up and call us back. Kindle and seize us. Be our fire and our sweetness. Let us love. Let us run. 

St Augustine

Come sweet winter winds remind us with your breath that even in stark and barren moments, His hand still moves and His heart can still be found.  Draw us back from wild chaos and into the gentle rhythm of His grace.