Season's Passed

Memories. Words exchanged. Affections shared.

I couldn’t get them out of my heart if I wanted to. And I didn’t. Want to, that is. But I knew it was time. Words from years ago fluttered into my thoughts. “Seasons come. Seasons go. New memories will form as you allow the old and dear to make room.”

I looked over and could see the row of faces I’d grown to love over the years. I didn’t want to let go. Change was as uncomfortable—to me—as hugging a porcupine; so, I avoided it as much as possible.

This time, though, I realized I couldn’t put it off any longer. Each face I saw, I embroidered into the fabric of my memory, hoping it wouldn’t fray in the years to come. I prayed for each one while recalling how they’d grown in specific places in my heart. The strength of the temptation to reach back and cling to the past, hold tight to what once was, is fierce.

As uncomfortable as any change was, relinquishing my grip on history was harder still.

I am reminded of Paul’s exhortation to forget “those things which are behind and reach(ing) forward to those things which are ahead …” (Philippians 3:13), and Isaiah’s words not to “remember the former things, nor consider the things of old” (Isaiah 43:18), which I believe he said because of the propensity of people to hold on when they should let go. I know I am like that, and I risk missing out on the promise from God that followed, “Behold, I will do a new thing, now it shall spring forth … I will even make a road in the wilderness and rivers in the desert …” (Isaiah 43:19)

If I could, I’d take a snapshot of each memory and place it in a scrapbook with the story of our time together, like the canoe trip down the Au Sable River on that damp, gray October day, while Mom watched the babies. We couldn’t keep the boat upright. We carried it down the river more than floated in it. I don’t think we got rid of the chill in our bones for weeks after that. Tahquamenon Falls was gorgeous, but the days leading to our visit would always remind us that God cares about the details.

We’d saved the entire year for our 21-day excursion around the Great Lakes. That summer, news flashed daily about wildfires in Newberry, Michigan. Plenty of lightning and too little rain kept this one smoldering. Before going, I’d prayed, asking God to send rain. Once we finished setting up camp at Tahquamenon Falls River Mouth, I heard the challenge in the back of my mind: “Are you going to ask for rain and remain uncovered?” –We’d left the fly off the tent so we could see the stars. That night—or I should say early morning—I was awakened by a clap of thunder, followed by heavy rain. The sun shone during the day and rained at night, during our entire 7-day stay.

If that weren't enough, He's shown up, provided for, strengthened, and healed our bodies and souls as we leaned into His presence.

I paused right there as I realized if I wanted to see the Lord continue to show His strength ... if I would like to hold onto His gifts for tomorrow ... if I am eager to walk into the “promised land” He’d set before me, then I must relinquish my grip on what once was and embrace who He is so that I can steward what will be.

The season’s passed. A new one has begun, and I (we) are invited to enjoy its beauty.

The LORD bless you and keep you; the LORD make His face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the LORD lift up His countenance upon you and give you peace. 

Numbers 6: 24 - 26 ESV

Adapted from an earlier version written 2019, you can read it here Season's Passed

Thank you for stopping by. As always, I pray you are encouraged. Be blessed. May the peace of the Lord go with you wherever you go this holiday season.