Change calls for us. Even though it beckons from afar and nudges us along with carefully placed clues, it is not voluntary. Eventually it sets in with a heavy, inevitable beauty. It's gentle breezes and heavy weights can lift us into airy castles or sweep us into pressured vats. We may make struggled attempts to fight against it like stubborn toddlers refusing to sit still for a hair brushing, but no matter how hard we struggle or how fast we run to escape it, change brushes us forward, unhindered by flimsy excuses of unpreparedness. God knows change is necessary and can sometimes be difficult for us to flow with. He will alternately pursue us or gently hold us through our stormy sessions of unwillingness to surrender by lovingly turning a deaf ear to our temper tantrums. Then He whispers ever so quietly into our hearts that instead of crying out against it's crushing weight, we can discover relieving counter pressure hidden in submissive silence if we stop struggling and pause to listen for the breathed promises of a new season of growth. When we gather our harvest of blessings with aching muscles, bow a submissively grateful head to God, and taste the renewing goodness of creation, it prepares our hearts for the protective crushing weight of winter's blanket. Bow down and give yourself freely to God for anticipated transformation. Allow yourself to be consumed by the entirety of the process. So that when the weight is finally lifted and closed doors open, you are able to recognize what is worth celebrating as spring's light crosses your threshold.
Among pale green leafiness in lofty dreams.
Admired for it’s wild sweetness
Plucked casually under early summer sun
Set aside to ripen momentarily.
As sands passed through time’s keeper
It is swept up by the pendulum’s swinging.
Brushed into the presses for preserving
Reason ceaselessly crushing weeping
The weighted finality of change.
All that is left is juice and mashed pulp.
Maybe someday there will be wine
No, it will not be strawberry sipped under the moon.
Aged far beyond transparent fragility
Bittersweet maturity deepened the colour.
Merged in a battered sturdy cask
Black cherry tones lace earthy dark grains.
Siphoned as a kin's homemade brew,
From musty depths into corked brown glass
Masqueraded with a little dust on a shelf