A Changing of Seasons...

Fall has always been my favorite season, but I can’t say that this particular fall is my favorite.
It’s not the changes outside that I’m disliking. I still love it when I walk outside and there is a bite in the air from chillier temperatures, and I enjoy watching the leaves change colors and fall from their trees and dance in the wind. (We’ve only had a few days like that here in Texas, but this time of year always reminds me of the many falls I got to spend in Illinois where the change to fall was very much evident whereas, In Texas, fall is more of a “faux-l”🤣) The falling leaves from their absent trees remind me it’s time to let go and see what beauty will come from the process. But this particular fall, it’s harder to let go. Sure, there are some things I’m more than happy to let go of right now in my life. But there are others that are beyond painful to loosen from my grasp. It’s a season of loss that many of you may be all too familiar with. 

Seasons in life don’t always give the telling signs of change like the seasons on our calendars. The moment the leaves would begin to turn and the wind would pick up in a different direction, I knew fall was coming in Illinois. (Whereas, in Texas, it’s usually the first sighting of pumpkins being sold at Walmart that signal fall is upon us and dinner in a pumpkin can go in the oven🤣) But seasons also change in our lives, too, and the change from one season to another isn’t quite as obvious. In other words, you usually can’t tell at the exact moment when you’re entering into a new stage in life. There’s not an alert you can set up on your phone’s calendar. In fact, this season change in my life has caused me to have to remove many of those alerts I had anticipated in my previous season-apps on my phone that told me what size the baby was growing into every Tuesday, doctor appointments I had already scheduled, my c-section date when we would get to hold our baby in our arms…all dates I visibly could see and was greatly anticipating have now been removed, and with their removal, I can see how the season has changed in my life. Yes, now that I’ve had a few moments to breathe from the shock of everything, I can see it more clearly as I’ve begun the process of grieving what I thought life would look like in this moment instead of the cruel reality of what has become. I can see now when the seasons changed, but it wasn’t as graceful and beautiful as the sight of a colorful leaf floating to the ground. It was sudden and challenging, crushing and heartbreaking, and somehow hurtful and numbing all at the same time. And yet, as much as I find myself hating this unwanted change, I’m reminded… 

“To everything there is a season and a time for every matter under Heaven: 

A time to be born and a time to die,

A time to plant and a time to uproot,

A time to kill and a time to heal,

A time to tear down and a time to build, 

A time to weep and a time to laugh, 

A time to mourn and a time to dance,

A time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, 

A time to embrace and a time to refrain,

A time to search and a time to give up, 

A time to keep and a time to throw away. 

A time to fear and a time to mend.

A time to be silent and a time to speak,

A time to love and a time to hate,

A time for war and a time for peace. 

What does the worker gain from his toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on men. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1-11) 

I want to make sense of all that has transpired in these last several weeks, yet I’m reminded that I’m not always going to be able to fathom what God is doing, yet I CAN always find the signs of His presence in the midst of these changes. I think the questions we always want to ask in situations like this are something like the following:

“God, WHY??” 

“Why are you allowing this?” 

“Why did this have to happen?” 

“Why didn’t You stop this from taking place?” 

“Why did you allow the joy of this baby to come into my life if You were only going to take her away?”

The beauty is that God allows me to shake my fists into the air and question Him, and He is patient with me to guide those fists back down in prayer and worship of Him. It’s a process He allows me to go through that ultimately draws me closer to Him when I finally let those fists down in surrender and then open up my palms and ask a different set of questions. Instead of why, I begin to ask what, and how:

“Lord, WHAT are you wanting to do in this situation?” “God, WHAT is your purpose for me in this?” 

“Father, HOW can I respond in a way that will bring You the most glory?”

The obstacles we face in this life are opportunities for us to come face to face with our Father. Because of Who He is, He alone is able to take our losses and breathe life into us. It’s not until I hit the bottom that I can experience Him lifting me back up. Without the pain of hurt, loss and grief, I would never get to experience the comfort my Heavenly Father longs to show to His child. 

Ultimately, God wants me to turn to Him with thanksgiving and praise. Job, in the darkest of circumstances, was able to turn to the Lord and say, “In all circumstances—whether You give or You take away—I choose to bless your name—to praise You!” It often takes a bit of time to get to that point where I can say, “Lord, I praise you that my baby is no longer with us…” Just the act of writing those words brings me to tears and makes me uncomfortable. But I WANT to be at that point. Many would say my inability to proclaim that right now is sinful, but the truth is this: God knows my heart. He knows that my deepest desire is to praise Him through even this. At my core, I know He’s working this all together for my good and His glory. But right now, I’m in the thick of grieving through it all. It’s what I call the stage of “Lord I believe; help my unbelief.” God isn’t chastising me for grieving; He’s carrying me through it, and He’s also bringing people-His hands and His feet-into my life who are helping me carry this heavy load. These are the things I CAN praise Him for right now as I struggle to voice the other. 

A dear friend recommended a book to me this week: “The Book of Common Courage” by K.J. Ramsey. In it, she says, “Courage is not the possession of the bravest or biggest but the choice to move toward the heart when the mind and body are separated by fear. Courage is the choice to move our fear into communion….Courage is the practice of trusting we have a Good Shepherd who always cares…” You see, our grief isn’t sinful and our tears are not shameful. Rather, our struggles give us the opportunity to question God and lean on Him more than we ever have before. We can choose to let our grief help us dive into a deeper realization of our need for our Saviour. In these times of sorrow and hurt, we also receive the ability to experience God’s presence in a new way. We often see the Lord as all powerful and mighty, capable of any and all things. We see the promise of Him going before us to prepare us and behind us to protect us, but in times of grief, we can also experience Him being WITH us. 

Friend, if you’re experiencing a changing of seasons into a time of loss, know that you aren’t alone. Loss may signify death to us, but those who are in Christ have the promise of His victory over death. I don’t know how He will choose to redeem the loss we encounter, but I do know He promises to do so. Some days I’m able to cling to that promise more surely, and other days I find my fists up in the air again with questions and hurt, but in all circumstances, He is with me, and He is with you, too.