© 2011 Kenny Louie, Flickr | CC-BY | via Wylio[/caption
Fall is, without a doubt, my favorite time of year. A little bit less “without a doubt”, now that I live in TX, but I spent the first 38 years where leaves change colors and the scent of the air changes and that lovely crispness enters it also. Colors above and colors crunching under foot and ever the rich deep green of the pine trees contrasted against it all. Honestly, I desperately miss it-fall in the northern states. It seemed easier to slow down, there, as the seasons cycled and nature herself came to a gradual halt. Winter was always my second favorite…the stillness, the hush that lay over the land. The cold that took your breath as much as the beauty of the world wearing white and sparkling with the cover of ice. Waiting was easier somehow. Hoping was too. Winter was a season pregnant with hope to me, despite all I read about it being about death-I never could quite grasp that. Winter was patient expectancy, the work being done, oh so quietly, oh so calmly, without fanfare. Winter doesn’t need the fanfare, she’s content to let Spring have that. I see her smiling softly to herself, a knowing sort of smile, as she goes about her business of setting the stage for renewal.
Despite the ache in my bones, I miss the definite seasons.
I think I’m realizing, I miss them inside also. I miss a definite rhythm to life, a sense of where I am, where I’m going, what is coming. I miss the peace, the hope, that is inherent in that. I’m not sure what season I’m in, though I do feel like scattered leaves. Hmmm….letting go. What am I holding on to that I need to just…let go?
As I type this, one thing comes to mind…this place I’ve rented for the past year…I like it. It’s the first place that has felt like it could be home in many years. And I am feeling that it is threatened, like once again what roots I’ve been able to put down might be torn up, again, and I don’t know that this plant, or my little plants, can take another transplanting. Yes, I wish the neighbors didn’t play their music for the whole street, but apart from those times, the boys and I really like it. Jesus, come…You know, Lord. Trust. You found this place, You led us here. Why do I fear? The Lord is my Rock, my Provider, my Refuge.
And as I cast around for ways to earn, so I don’t lose it, the scattered feeling is intense. I don’t believe work is meant to be a drudge where you just go punch the clock and put in your time to earn your paycheck that barely covers things. But it seems to me one has to know themselves a bit and what they desire, what burns in them, to do otherwise. I ask myself, what are those things, and none of them seem practical. Horses, sustainable small scale farming, archaeology…not easy ways for someone in prime health to earn a living. I can’t help but work towards the first two, and the last I have just accepted I will need to pacify myself with reading about. Writing? I can’t tell if that’s me or if that’s the voices of many over the years telling me I should be a writer. I became a Watkins consultant because how hard can it be to sell very high quality reasonably priced organic consumables that people use in every day life, when I can sell luxury things like a horse? Over a year later I’m still trying to get anyone to try anything…but the truth is, I hate sales. It’s hard to be good and convincing at something you hate LOL! Yet I renewed, to try for another year, because bills have to be paid, and they really are products I believe in. Maybe I’ll learn, I tell myself. I will continue to try. I loved the work I was doing with my elderly client. Being there to do the things she no longer could, to allow her to keep her independence…that was meaningful. That was making a difference in her and her family’s lives. I can go back to that, but not for at least 6 months, per the doctors, and that is if all goes well.
I would love to find a way to merge the farming, the little horses, and helping the elderly and abused. I still dream of a place people can come to, to rest and rejuvenate their souls. Paths to wander, benches to rest on, little horses to interact with, with chickens running around and flowers blooming and a few Collies to pet and cats and bunnies to hold. If they want and are able, a bit more to do…Minis to drive or walk with, brush…gardens of growing things, good things. A place where life can slow down, and souls can breathe and stir…eyes can cry as much as needed to release, and belly laughs can ring out too. It’s amazing how much people slap down dreams like that, if you dare to mention them. All I’ve heard so far is “you’ll lose everything if you try to do that” and “you can’t-you aren’t capable”. Why? I’m intelligent, I’m organized, I can plan and carry out. No, I’m not physically strong much anymore-but that can come, and it’s not like I’m wanting to use big horses *soft smile* “You don’t have the money and never will for a dream like that, let it go Tina”, a few have said. I have to say, if it’s HIS dream, it will happen. The Lord gives you the desires of your heart. We mistake that in our western culture to mean “If I want something, God will give it to me”. A closer reading of the original Hebrew shows that it means the very desires that we have inside of us, those things that burn there–He gave them to us. And what He intends, He fulfills. I have to hold on to that.
And stop scattering myself in so many directions, looking for a way through.