Resting in the days of change

My dad used to say that he hated fall. It announced the coming of the cold, dark days of winter in his mind. The trees losing their leaves were signs of death to him and the smell of musky autumn days was like decay to his nostrils. I never, even as a child, could understand that thinking. Autumn is glorious to me. The riotous colors that burst layer by layer and day by day enthrall my senses. The crisp cool air combined with the warm sunny days jolt my body into a desire for action: walk the dog, clean the house, clear the garden, but do something! I see it as the party before the good sleep.

I can relate to autumn in the course of life as well. It feels like that in my days right now. Busy with teenagers, grandchildren, adult kids, husband, jobs, writing, and finishing the long awaited degree, I am in the glorious days where colors and abundance of life swirl around me like the leaves dancing from thier lofty heights to lay upon the fading green grass. There are moments I yearn for the long, dark, restful days of winter. Maybe life will slow a bit then. Maybe it won't feel like I'm dropping some ball somewhere.

I don't linger there too long in thought. Change happens daily around here. To linger in the desire to that rest would assure that some good thing would be overlooked and never captured again. I breathe deeply and move forward. I have learned along the way that rest happens when good hard work has given way to deep sleep, and rest happens when in the quiet of my spirit I find, no I make the moment, choose the time, to sit at the feet of my Savior and just rest. I then rest in His word, in His presence, and in the promise of His leading.

It took a few years for me to get there. Finding that place of sitting quietly and resting in my salvation, came over months and years of waiting with Him. Waiting while one season completed before the next became tangible and functioning, while we were waiting for Him to work through the details.

Like the days when we waited for the miscarriage to complete, so we could move into full grieving after all hope was gone; and waiting while the neighbors searched door to door for our little girl who had wandered away from a neighbor's house. The three years of waiting for our first adoption to happen, the thirty some times of being told no seemed like a cold night that would not end. But end, it did, and then the new season of parenting - again, began. Then waiting while the years flew by and no way of adopting again as our hearts long for presented itself. Until the day it did, eight years later. Waiting through hoeschooling, public schools, parents' associations, and soccer games for the day I could attend school myself again. Then finding it at 48 years old and seeing the degree within reach through seminary study. Through all of the waiting and the longing-of-heart days I learned that He is faithful. He is also wise and His timing is never, not once, wrong. As those truths settled their way onto the softness of my heart like the autumn leaves floating outside my window today, I began to learn that trusting Him is my rest.

It is my rest when life feels too big. It is my rest when others disappoint me or I disappoint others. It is my rest beyond the days, the busy push of days, the needs of this moment, and the things that I failed in, it is then my rest. Always. Especially in those days of change.