Life is a collection of seasons — some gentle, some harsh.
In each, I’ve seen the sun and moon move within the heights of the trees, and I’ve grown closer to the heavenly realms as my earthly seasons shorten.
There is a melody in the rustling wind that piques my ears, and my hips follow — my life song is still playing, and I will stay and dance until the last note.
I feel my fingertips upon my mouth; these lips have spoken as much as they have held back; the breath I’ve given to words, I pray, has been more pleasing than painful.
How many times have I retrained child-like elation or a dam of sorrow? With whatever I’ve outwardly curtailed, I’ve experienced in full internally. In this, I am as you are, more than what is seen.
What is sight but a blurred, wobbly bridge that attempts to connect our experiences?
Steadfast in our intentions, we still stumble upon misconceptions.
And life continues to flower in a dying world.
Petals drop much too soon, yet the fragrance of the bloom lingers.
What can last? I ask.
I know the answer, and it will far outlast me.
An empathetic connection tethers me to the Overseer of my soul.
An intimate knowing beckons me to bask in fields of grace.
Oh, glory divine! Radiant splendor.
Christ Jesus, the light that makes darkness bow and death lose its sting.
By His wounds, I have been rescued and restored.
By His love, I have learned to love.
And in loving, I live beyond flowers, fields, trees, sun, and moon.
My life shines from the inside out, on this day and into eternity.
For the Lord’s joy and peace are the oil in my lamp; the Holy Spirit, my constant companion.
What can last? I ask.
Not flesh, but faith.
Not weariness, but worship.
Not suffering, but the Savior.
Dear friend, may our lanterns remain filled no matter the season.
For your light warms and encourages me as much as I hope mine does you.
“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven…” (Ecclesiastes 3:1).
This column was initially published by CherryRoad Media. ©Tiffany Kaye Chartier.