One Quiet Life

( Source ) The work of winter is to hunker down, to brace the cold and dark. I have always cherished winter, its crisp mornings with sparkles covering the ground. Windows edged in frosty patterns of lace. Chilly evenings that beg for candlelight and warmth. Winter beckons me home. I am reluctant for spring's arrival, for the change that ensues. I prefer the safety and comfort of the familiar, the much more narrow focus winter brings. I struggle with leaving things behind. Seasons. People. Places. Plans. I know what it means to wrestle with leaving a season . To approach a new one with trepidation . Yet God does not leave me to wander the unknown without Him. Though the path forward may be rutted and carved by ice, He points to vibrant green bursting through the still white of the fields. I can almost touch the sprigs of new life, as I ponder what He has in store. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? -Isaiah 43:19

The pain was deep, raw. As I told a friend, I felt as if I'd been gutted. I knew it wasn't intentional, but this knowledge didn't soften the blow. Because I carried on as usual I knew the other party wasn't aware of my feelings, but that was poor comfort. I stewed. I grappled with the ugliness of my emotions. I sought counsel from others who were removed from the situation. I asked them to pray. I prayed. I carried the hurt around for a while. Finally, when I was too weary to carry it any longer or any further, I relented and asked God to carry it for me. And He did. As He gracefully circumcised my heart (Deut. 10:16), He fixed my gaze on His truth. He showed me that even in this, He is molding me. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials,so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and hono...