Swiftly Flow the Days by Joylene M Bailey

 

Sunrise, sunset

Sunrise, sunset

Swiftly flow the days

Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers

Blossoming even as they gaze.

- Sheldon Harnick -

~~~~~

What I love about living in the country is that the seasons are amplified. From my library window I can watch a wheat field turn from baby green to rippling ripe blonde.

Every spring, we look forward to the calves and lambs and orange-red baby bison we know we'll see on our drive to the nearby town. As the season stretches on, so the babies themselves stretch and grow and change. 

Before long, big round bales of straw have replaced the wheat I saw waving in the field. Almost at once those are gone, and the field is white with deep snow, broken only by a Mama moose and her half-grown calf effortlessly skimming across it.

It is comforting to me to know that, without fail, the seasons will come and go. But watching them come and go wrenches emotions from me. Like seasons of life, I can wave goodbye and Good Riddance to a season that is going. Or, if it was an especially good one, I hang on as long as I can before moving into the next, which I can either welcome or dread.

What has captured my thoughts all my life is that things are always, always changing. Isn't that why we take photographs? We want to freeze a moment in time. But the truth is, regardless of whether we move ahead with apprehension or expectancy, we are always moving ahead. Leaving the past behind.

Children grow up, family members pass on, we move to new homes, walk ourselves and our friends through periods of heartache and hardship. Some seasons are rough, others full of contentment and joy. Some are periods of busy, hurry, purpose. Other times last forever when the waiting is excruciating. Most seasons carry sprinklings of everything, and most of us have been through them all. We rejoice and we lament.

I was captivated by the words of an elderly woman who was asked about her long life. "Some decades are hard," was her simple reply. That just about says it all.

~~~~~

You hurt and you heal, you build and release, and it's all part of the same process: it's life.

- Jennifer Healey -

healingbrave.com

~~~~~

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It is perhaps fortunate that we can't see far enough down the path into the next season. Over the next hill, around the next bend, is the mysterious unknown. 

I keep telling people I'm in my flower era. I love anything with flowers on them. Notecards, notebooks, quilt fabric, clothing, even my purse is an explosion of flowers. I recently stopped myself before buying a pair of shoes covered in pretty flowers, thinking maybe that was taking things a little too far. And also, I don't need another pair of shoes.

But I'm also in a season of chronic pain, which, on the worst days, hangs like a cloud over all aspects of life. The focus of this year has been to try to figure things out and get some relief. I wish I could look around that bend in the path and see what the next ten years look like. More of the same? Or a totally transformed me. I can't see around the bend, however, and must trust that my Father knows the path ahead. I must put my hand in His, trust Him with the journey, and do everything I can to walk this path with joy. 

If you are in a difficult season, I pray you sense God's lovingkindness and mercy. If your life is mostly well these days, may God grant you grace, peace, and rest.

~~~~~

Some of the trees around our place are already turning colour. It seems too soon. Is Madame Autumn already here? At first, I'm shocked that summer could be gone so soon, but after a few seconds I find myself thinking of the cooler evenings ahead. I anticipate a walk through crunchy leaves, and that familiar nip in the air. I'm hopeful for the next chapter. Rather than look back, I turn towards the new season, as late summer sunflowers turn towards the sun.

~~~~~

                All the trees are losing their leaves, and not one of them is worried.

- Donald Miller -

~~~~~

All photos from Pixabay.

Joy lives with The Cowboy and their livestock (two cats and a dog) at The Cleft in lake country, Alberta. It's been a busy summer at The Cleft, full of visits from family and friends, and one very happy Corgi.

Joy writes stories for children, short stories, articles, and poetry, and is working on a longer work of fiction. Find more of her joy-infused writing at Scraps of Joy.