Back to the Beginning II: My One Paltry Seed

The 25th has arrived. I'm not sure how I was expecting it to feel, how I'm expecting it to go. It seems wrong our day should go on as normal. Abigail loved pancakes and Cheerios. (Cheerios being code for any cereal really. Oddly enough, it often meant Fiber One. My children will be quick to tell you they are terribly deprived of "all the colorful and good" cereals.) So, do I make them pancakes and see her empty chair? Who's going to sit on the counter next to me while I mix them up?  Who's going to make a mess with the batter and try to dip it out with fingers? Who will steal my coffee sip by sip?

I close my eyes and I can see her sitting there in her blue nightgown with dried pancake batter on her hands and clothes with crazy morning hair. I can smell her shampoo and feel her warm little arms hugging me as she says "thank you! thank you, mommy!" simply because I made her breakfast. 

I've gotten lost in my memories. In an effort to redirect and pick up where I left off yesterday,  will you meander with me into day three of creation? 

Fruit and seed bearing plants. (I'm sensing a food theme today.) While they don't yet have the sun they'll need to thrive, there's still the expectation of bearing fruit. As I pondered this I couldn't help but think of the different seasons and soils required for various fruits and plants. Similarly, differing seasons of our lives produce or mature different fruit. Some plants require extreme heats or extensive rainy seasons to produce the intended crop. Is that where I am? Sometimes we can't see into our day four where the sun is found. 

There's a dying that takes place for a singular piece of fruit so that a seed may take root producing a hundred fold. May it be that I die to myself and my desires so He may bring forth fruit in plenty from my one paltry seed of surrender. May I view this heat, this torrential downpour as a resource, a tool used for the good of the harvest. I also ache because losing our Abigail invited three small "fruits" to also die to themselves: whether they realize it or not. "Please, don't waste this," I plead with the Lord. "May these seeds survive the heat and produce fruit for years to come." 

Day four. The heat is coming, and with it comes light. 

Sun. Moon. Stars.

 God used these as a marker of days, seasons, and years. They never stop shining: even when I cannot fully appreciate the light or heat. The night is never really completely dark. And we are never really without hope. The dark accentuates the brightness of the punctuating moon and stars. Jesus: light of the world. The dark can't hide Him. There may be clouds obscuring the light, making it more difficult to see, but it's then I yearn for it more desperately, more deeply. It will not always be night. The sun will rise. It may be cold for a season, and Winter may seem to drag by. 

Painstakingly. 

Slow.

But, Spring will come. The seasons will change. There may even be another long, dark, and cold Winter ahead. But the Light will always be there; even when I can't feel it's warmth. What I feel doesn't change reality. Even the changing seasons-the dry, hot Summer; the cool, dying Fall; the long, cold, and dark Winter; the rain-filled and windy Spring- He called "good". He set them in motion. He gave them purpose. 

Climates are different across the globe just as climates are different across believers' lives. Just as one can't control the elements of their residing region, one also cannot control the climate of their lives. The reaction to the climate? Yes. But why should I envy the ones God has seemingly placed in gentle and mild climates where most days are sunny and 75 with a gentle breeze? That's the life to which they've been called. For now. I used to live there: in the place where a few pop up storms quickly came and went in an otherwise calm setting. Suddenly, we were transported smack dab in the middle of a hurricane. When it let up the air was heavy and the temperature scorching as we are rummaging through the destruction and debris in an attempt to rebuild. Will we live here a while? If so, I don't know how I feel about that. I may quickly ask for a new zip code. 

Other days I feel we've been dropped into the freezing Artic with extensive winds and blizzards. The blizzard has lightened but now the challenge of digging our way out lies before us. And on top of it all the days are short, and the nights are long. The ice is hard- breaking it up to start our journey out of here is so, so hard. Possible, but still so hard. But, I'm reminded that in either place the sun is still present.

Light may be hard to see, but He's still there. And I depend upon it. 

I depend upon it as I get up out of this chair and mix up those protein pancakes or offer Fiber One as the alternative. 

I depend upon it as I see her everywhere in every room. 

I depend upon it as tears run down my cheeks throughout the day.

I depend upon it as we help our three other small "fruits" navigate this new season. 

I'm holding Him to His promise of presence.