Look inside my kitchen window where the daily rhythms pulse. It's warm against the other side of the white window and it probably smells of some love potion brewing on the stove or out from the oven like warm trays of rolls and soft chocolate chip cookies, roasts, and Italian vegetable soup; my love language.
Before the cold blew in, things looked more like this.
And even though I knew it couldn't really be true, it seemed like the zinnias would last forever and ever.
And the morning glories would keep meeting me early.
Life and times have a way of seeming invincible and sure. The frost came and tapped my shoulder, shaking me from my sweet delusion to remind that everything changes-- that there is a time and a season for every activity under the heavens. (Ecclesiastes 3:1) May we have the grace and dignity to let go at the appropriate times and to hang on when we know that we should. And may we have the wisdom to recognize one from the other.
