I fear that this season is going to get by me. I feel it passing and yet I feel no better, no more for it. How many of my seasons seem so? Timed passed, logged, lived through…
Hopefully, my children feel otherwise. Hopefully, their lives have been enriched. Hopefully my effort and attention and actions have gained them something, some things to hold dear and to hold them some day.
Today, I watched the wind play upon my wall, leaves dancing like music upon my blinds’ shadowy clefs. Fall always seems to be about movement for me. It is the time that things, unseen, like wind, happen.
Yet, my spirit seems stuck in summer’s stagnancy, I have yet to find the breeze that accompanies the shifting sky.
Help, God. Please, show Yourself.