Leaves falling signal approaching death. Yet I never feel
more alive.
All is still, calm…
beautiful. My heart awakens and is
moving, dancing… it’s enraptured. It is Autumn.
Morning by morning, coolness presses in, as warm hues of late summer have passed. All that is, calls us to recognize the season. The season beckons us to harvest, to prepare, to gather in and close the door. The fire will be the gathering place; all are welcomed to its warmth. We will huddle close and remember, taking count of the provision, the plenty. We will bow our heads, remembering from Whom these blessings have come. We will remember and be thankful.
Morning by morning, coolness presses in, as warm hues of late summer have passed. All that is, calls us to recognize the season. The season beckons us to harvest, to prepare, to gather in and close the door. The fire will be the gathering place; all are welcomed to its warmth. We will huddle close and remember, taking count of the provision, the plenty. We will bow our heads, remembering from Whom these blessings have come. We will remember and be thankful.
So, today, as I remember, I let reminiscent tears flow, and,
though far from those scenes, those experiences...humbly, I choose to be
Thankful.
Why the tears? Poetically I look at my experience, my
journey, through the scope of time… in blocks, like seasons. On my journey summer is over. The tedious,
somewhat arduous task of harvesting has been
upon us. And yet, I look out my
window, and no where do I see the beauty
in the earth that proclaims the season of harvest and storing … not this time
of year here, not like I remember. My heart wants to ache for yesteryear, for
the familiar traditions that are nostalgic and dear. I resist the temptation to
pitifully long for that which we can’t grasp yearly, seasonly, gathering
together as family and friends to enjoy the nostalgic traditions we have in
common there; because, truth is we are here in Cambodia, many miles away. However, at such times, we do steal a moment to
remember those there. We must enjoy that memory thankfully, and rest our hearts
in trust that…We are none the poorer in our absence.
Yes, I trust, and step back in faith, in hopes of seeing with
my spirit’s eye the portion that is our lot here. I step back and ask the Lord to faithfully
give a glimpse in this season of His horn of plenty… full of spiritual fruit
and abundance. In this country, so far from our familiar customs and family
traditions, I long to see it, again,
just a glimpse, this Holiday season. As
my heart wants to ache and long for the “times” we once knew there, sights and
smells, and sounds, I know that it is just a parallel of what I’m asking for, believing to see, sense,
experience here, in His time. I’m trusting that all the beauty, warmth, and blessings that accompanies
God-fearing traditions that our families have walked in there, would be a realistic hope, the future
result of what has been planted here. I trust that we'll see "all things made beautiful in His time" (Ecc. 3:11). Again, in the spirit, I await His
revealing of the Harvest that is taking place… the abundance of His blessing
made manifest in this place.
So, it is Autumn, it is “Thanksgiving”, the most wonderful
symbolic time to remember His many benefits and I choose to look at Him alone
during this season. He alone is the One to Whom we are thankful for all seasons
of this journey of life. Though we miss the “season” and all the benefits
there, we are thankful for harvest and dear saints here. Today, I bring to
remembrance all the many blessings of yesteryear as well as my “todays”, and I
am thankful. I journey on… and thankful
I will choose to remain.
