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November 18, 2010

The last of the leaves have fallen. The beauty is all but gone. We hang on to the memories of fields of color and skies of blue. Change is happening once again. We go from the soft and beautiful colors of spring to the vibrant bursts of orange and red. The fields are all dirt and brown–with bursts of dried weeds without anything I would call color. The days are short with the black coming sooner. The mornings come late with the clouds from the lake obscuring the sun.

It is days such as these, that I wait for the change. Will the skies stay grey? Will the morning become bright again?

The days will change again when everything is covered in white. The pureness of white will give the needed change from the dullness of brown. Then we will tire of the white and want the change of green. Finicky we are.

I think the wanting of change comes naturally. If we didn’t want for the change–we would not grow inside. We would not want to be cleansed from the dirt to the pure. We would want to stay as we are. I for one–want change.   I want the skies to be blue again and the grass to be green–but I must wait. I must have the cold and the death–before life begins anew.

Without the brown and the slow death–I would not appreciate the pureness of the white. And without the cold and death but pureness of the white–I would not appreciate the life that comes from the green. The earth warms slowly when the sun makes its return–bringing with it-life and color.

But I must wait. Accept the grey and brown–and know that the change and the rest that is happening inside will bring with it–the most vibrant of colors when it is time. The hardness and the coldness of the winter–make the colors and the warmth that much more heightened.

The seasons come-the seasons go–and with them change happens.  The old dies away–the weak become strong–the strong become stronger.

I embrace the change when it is over–knowing that it brings forth fruit– It is in the midst of the change that I balk and cower for fear.  It is always hope for the morning-that brings the sun.

Ecclesiastes 3:1

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

4 Comments leave one →
  1. November 18, 2010 4:48 pm

    Beautiful post, Vonda. I so agree that the green grass and blue skies would not be so brilliant if not for the gray and white days in comparison, both in the seasons and in our souls. Gives a whole new perspective of being ready for the lake effect snow and storms!

    • November 19, 2010 10:28 am

      Not quite sure I am ready for the lake effect–I heard the lakes are so warm-it could be a record year!

      • November 19, 2010 11:23 am

        I’ve heard that too. I saw some video of winter during a weather discussion on the news, and I felt a quick shiver of dread! I’m glad you had some down-time yesterday with your little one sick. And thanks for reading my blog. I enjoy writing it but sometimes wonder if it’s interesting to anybody, except my Mom!

  2. November 19, 2010 7:42 am

    A verse I often repeat to myself.
    The ultimate metaphor for life,
    as is the changing of the seasons.
    Love your reflections, Vonda!
    xx Suzanne

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