Rain

"To be interested in the changing seasons is ... a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring"
- George Santayana

There is a special tree - deep down in the rural Northern California Valley - that sits humbly in front of 1518 Norden Way. A Special Tree. It was MY tree. I rode (the parents still deny it) in the back of the old chevy pickup in 1981 as we brought it home from the nursery. I watched as it found a new home in our front yard - then watched as it grew, as I did, into a taller and fuller version of itself. And like me - the tree was always wonderfully beholden to the seasons. I loved to sit and gaze at it from my big bedroom windows - each month as the leaves went from deep green of lush spring, to the bright yellow-green of hot summer, to the dusty red of fall - then to finally succomb to the power of winter's pull as they fell to the ground.
The thin wiry branches that remained braced for the rain - and on went the persistent cycle as my childhood spilled into adulthood.

I am thankful for my perspective of seasons. I'm now in Oregon, a grown woman, far from home and far from my tree. And recently my own 'leaves' have turned dusty red and are beginning to succomb to the pull of winter - the pain and trials of a new season. I realized early on that life was full of them, each waxing and waning into one another. One season cannot be rich or delightful unless it had been purchased by the one before it. For the last few years I have been purchasing this season - I had a wonderful courtship, a fullfilling job, an exciting wedding, a rich & relaxing first year, and an amazing acceptance letter to Pacific University.
So now I change seasons - embracing trials, sacrifice, painful truths and wonderful lessons.

Lord help me to keep my eyes on you as my thin branches brace for the rain. Be thou my vision and my perspective as I feel pressures of selfishness, of pride, of inadequacy. Remind me of Colossians - that I'm 'chosen, holy and dearly loved'. Remind me to keep my eyes on my fellow students around me - on the seasons they will endure during this time as well. We'll all have winter - and for some it will be long. Let me be your light. Clothe me with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, patience. Give us grace to bear with one another.
And on my barren branches cloak me with love, which binds them all together in unity.

Thank you for the rain.
Let it come.