The season of tulips is over:
The season of irises begins:
March’s wood hyacinths are fading away:
While the Dianthus burst forth into the heat of May:
The airy clouds of dogwood blossoms brown and fade:
Becoming litter on the ground:
While maple leaves unfurl into summer, creating welcome shade:
The gifts of each season pass, but are unerringly replaced by the gifts of the next season. Every morning walk tells me this is so. Every morning walk should assure me that the passing of the season of Ruth Ann in my life will be followed by gifts of the next season, gifts as yet unimagined and unknown.
But the shape and weight of the emptiness left by her death continue to confound me. My meager tendrils of faith in the turning world struggle to take root and grow. Trusting that a new season will quietly tiptoe into my life and astound me with its beauty requires moment-by-moment suspension of disbelief.
My favorite television show is Call the Midwife. Last Sunday’s episode closed with these words:
Invisible wounds are the hardest to heal, for their closure depends upon the love of others, and patience, understanding and the tender gift of time.
I am blessed with the love of others. My own patience and understanding for my hurting heart are in short supply. But the tender gift of time arrives of its own accord, without requirements of belief, faith or consent. And so, I act “as if” the passing of grief and the return of joy are inevitable, even while faith and trust remain out of reach. And every morning I step out the door, and keep walking.
4 thoughts on “To Everything There Is A Season”
The idea of this post is great. You photos are so beautiful and enjoyable. Thank You.
Thank you, Matti! Having faith in the changing of the seasons, each in its turn, really helps me with missing my friend.
What a lovely contemplation of seasons both emotional and in nature. My thoughts are with you.
Sending a much belated thank you for your comment on this blog post from months ago. Knowing others understand this loss has made walking this path bearable.
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