Hello Middle Places peeps!!! We are in my favorite season. Or at least I want it to be, but every single stinkin’ year it becomes a big ole hot mess.
Thirteen years ago, my Momma died on Thanksgiving day. These beautiful fall months leading up to her death were a bucket full of hard.
Twelve years ago, I had a head injury and was struggling with recovering my memory, and my brother ran off with a band of gypsies. Well maybe not gypsies, but he left and we don’t know where he is… so close.
Eleven years ago, I was trying to build my horse farm in a season of monsoon like rain.
Nine years ago, I was preparing to give birth to my baby girl, all while trying desperately to keep her IN my belly. A season of pain and fear.
Six years ago, we had to euthanize my daughter’s pony the day after Jojo’s third birthday.
Year after year, seasons of hard
Three years ago, I moved into a little house that I built and was waiting for the power to be completed before it got miserably cold. I was like MacGyver with all of my contraptions to “get by” until the electrician finished the final wiring.
Two years ago I was in pain preparing for a major surgery.
All of these seasons of hard had changed memories that, when dug out of ugly, were sweet, but over the years had turned into a big ole pile of bitter. And ya know what is yuckers about bitter things? That look on your face with you swallow. That aftertaste in your mouth that will. not. leave.
Bitter lingers. And so does the bitterness that builds in our hearts.
Growing up, I was always the glass half girl kinda girl. If there was 60% chance of rain? To me, there was a 40% chance of sunshine!! But seasons of hard wore me down like a bad pair of shoes.
Had I lost that positive energy?
Had I lost that joy and thankfulness?
Would I ever recount the fall leaves and smile?
And I am confident that He who began a good work in you will continue to perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus. Philippians 1:6
And there it is. God is not going to take away such a personality gift that was given to me or YOU. Even though, the world had worn me down, I have someone bigger than the world living in me. Can I get an AMEN?!?
So this year as I entered the season of possible hard, it was different. I did battle the worst virus I’ve ever had, but it was different. This year there was hope. There was thankfulness in the midst of hard.
And last Sunday, my baby girl was baptized. And I as I tried to not cough up a lung in front of hundreds of people, my heart just about burst into a million grateful little pieces seeing so many friends and family standing around her on her big day. It was beautiful.
And the season changed. It went from year after year of misery to a year of hope.Taking the time to notice goodness can change our perspective. Click To Tweet
It went from year after year of…
“I’ve just got to survive,” and
“I’ve just got to be strong,” and
“I’ve just got to keep my head above the water”
“Thank you Jesus for letting perseverance finish its work so that I may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”
But then, y’all, it got even better. We jumped up in the big ole truck and headed home and she said, “Will you tell me about my Momma Josie?”
“Will I? Well, yes ma’am, I sure will,” I said a bit nervously. (That kinda stuff is hard to talk about during hard seasons).
But joy took over my heart. I told her about my Momma Josie’s prayers and her funny personality. I told her about how much she would LOVE the fact that she has a namesake (my little girl). And all about milking cows, and biscuits with butter and sugar, and about her love of painting.
And then we talked a lot about my mom. And then my Mama.
And you know what was amazing? It didn’t sting. It wasn’t a bad taste in my mouth.
The memories, that had once been like salt in the wound during seasons of hard, turned to sweet memories.
No longer were my hard seasons bitter sweet. No long were they a reminder of what once was. Or what could have been. Or maybe even what never was. Or of hurt.
But for the first time, I had reached a season of peace. A season where it was fun to remember even through tears. I laughed and I cried and I enjoyed recounting. And I remembered what it felt like to have a glass half full