hope writers {season} 9.25

In Tennessee we tend to enjoy the seasons and while we do have four distinct seasons they aren’t always long and aren’t always clear. Monday was the Autumnal Equinox, but today it is still going to been the 90s. We can feel in the mornings the touch of chill coming in the air, but the afternoon reminds us that Autumn really hasn’t arrived. We will celebrate the leaves turning and run into the mountains to catch the views and then blink and see our lawns littered with their remains. As much as I hate the cold, I love the crispness of it. I love opening the door to the bite and sting of that chill. I love bundling up in layers and quilts with a warm cup cradled in my hands. There is something in the coldness that settles my anxiousness. Perhaps it is the reality that life slows down in the winter. There is a hibernation that happens with all life; even the life of those with busy teenagers. Maybe it is the promise that even in the slumber of winter; the deadness of the world around us, there is life living under there. The trees and the plants are merely slumbering and building up their strength for the show they will display in the spring. A reminder that even in the desert places of my life, in the places where life seems frozen that there is work happening there. Aslan is always on the move.

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