Seasons change. Suitcases packed, sitting by the door, and ready for the car. Intimidating thoughts creep into my mind as the last bag gets zipped shut: “What am I forgetting?” “Have I taught her enough?” Much less “When will we see each other again?” The frantic double checking of pre-departure. Exhilaration and emotional fragility mingled together. This wasn’t an unfamiliar scenario for us. Our older two kids had already departed, attended college and graduated into their next seasons.
Fall’s cooler nights were right around the corner. The cycle of shorter days and pre-dormancy leaf drop. All reminders of how I felt saying farewell to my youngest daughter. Her joy had been a constant brightness to my days. I struggled to imagine my house in a quiet, dormant state.
Preparing a child for life out in the big world is what we, as parents, do – often without realizing it- in every season of their life. However, it gets masked by schedules, activities and so much “right now” that the tomorrows of adulthood seem far away. Somehow, as my kids arrived at the midpoint of their high school years, the reality of the “next” season hit me. Questions flying through my mind: “Can they do laundry or grocery shop?” “Will they be good with their money?” Like cramming for a test last minute, these questions only brought anxiety, as there was little time left to implement extra training.
It’s a subtle tactic of the enemy to get us distracted from a sacred moment of blessing our kids into their future. I was stuck dwelling on what I might have missed in the past. If the enemy has me worrying about something behind me, how attentive am I to what is right in front of me?
Sending my first two children off to the independence of college life was hard, but different from this youngest child, who chose a school not just out of state, but across the country. Her choice was good, and we were excited for her. However, there would be no hopping in the car to attend a concert or school activity. This farewell was not a “See you in a couple of weeks” scenario. We packed for a short drive to the airport but a long separation after takeoff.
There was a finality to this departure. I remember our house feeling void of conversation and laughter. Meals for two instead of the 3 plus that came with her friend circle. No sounds of life from her bedroom. No extra shoes by the front door. Just an unusual silence. We were entering an unknown season. A season she had been expecting, and I was equally dreading.
Winter’s drop in temperature was no match for my cold emotions as I realized how unprepared I felt for this time and how to fill it. The question of what I would do with my newfound “free” time hadn’t had a moment to marinate in my mind. I was preoccupied with the here and now. I had given no thought to the rebirthing of my long dormant visions of writing. But seasons change whether or not we are ready.
The Old Testament (Genesis 37, 39-46) tells of a boy with a glorious coat of marvelous colors who received visions from God that seemed oddly out of place for his age. Jealous brothers stopped the boy’s fantastical dreaming by dropping him in a pit. From pit, to prison, to palace, God’s vision given to Joseph was unfolding in ways he never envisioned for himself.
An avid scrapbook mom when all my kids were home, I spent precious hours documenting their life in pictures. It had been a great joy for me. As the graduation for our youngest neared, the calendar reminded me there was much on my scrapbooking to do list that might not get done. Life had moved so quickly that I wasn’t keeping up with my expectation of completed memory books. After she left for college, I thought the urge to complete the books would return, but it faded. I couldn’t make myself work on the project I had so passionately enjoyed before. I was grieving and lost all desire to relive the memories or creatively preserve them. Eventually, a sheet was used to cover my work area. Out of sight, out of mind, but still heavy on my heart.
Winter was a struggle for me. Loneliness and sad days. Lots of tears. Loving long naps more than connecting with others. I wasn’t prepared for the depth of loss I felt, no longer being the mom who interacted with her kids every day. Like Joseph, I wasn’t prepared for this next season.
As spring flowers began their bold arrival in my yard, so too was a new hope growing in my heart. I tried to trust God’s infinite wisdom even when I couldn’t see what was ahead. Life transitions naturally come with questions about the future and all the unknowns. I hoped the Lord would share a future page with me. Just a brief glimpse. Instead, He called me to wait, just as I waited for His created seasons to reveal themselves in my yard.
Summer arrived like the rush of warmth when the oven door opens, wafting out the fragrance of fresh baked bread. Sustenance from the Bread of Life. Longer days and perhaps a clearer vision of what this new season might hold for me. Words long dormant resurfaced in my heart and on paper. While empty scrapbook pages still rested untouched, my written thoughts had found their way – by God’s design alone – into an encouragement for others. His vision for my writing, born in a season of young children and with no time to develop it, found its summer of growth as only God could have orchestrated. But I had to live the yesterday’s and today’s to get to the tomorrow of the Lord’s design.
Joseph had no way of knowing what the Lord would engineer out of his vision to pit to prison to palace life. But God had promised that one day Israel would produce a Savior. Joseph was in that lineage, a vision orchestrated by Almighty God, to provide us all with our Messiah and Redeemer.
- Is there a vision planted in your heart that is waiting to be birthed into reality?
- Are you trusting that the Lord is more than able to bring it about in His time?
- Can you be grateful amid a season that feels like winter’s dark days?
- Can you believe that the God of creation is still writing your story?
I am grateful for the winter. I can trust there are more words, more pages, completed chapters – all to come. In the slower seasons of apparent dormancy, the Lord has not abandoned us, but like the seeds that sprout in season, like Joseph in the pit, prison or palace, we are being formed into His likeness and at a time of His choosing – life will spring forth. Hope renewed and He will restore our joy.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-11 “…to everything there is a season…”
Article first posted as a guest blog for Michele Wilbert. Thank you Michele!