Fall and Faith, My Friends

 

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I spent a day hunting in the woods last week. Sitting in the stand on my morning hunt, I just felt God whisper promises to me. I was praying for specific people. A mommy who is home right now with her two boys holding down the fort while her husband fights for our freedom. A mommy who just lost her precious baby. A new mommy who is navigating the shaky waters of motherhood while facing the trials of being a foster parent of a medically complex and beautiful baby. A young man facing the pain of a young  friend dying in a wreck.I prayed for my pregnant friends. For their first time. For their third time. For their last time. Bless them. Carry them through. Give them strength. Faith. Speak to them, because I can’t seem to find the words. Because it’s gut wrenching and downright unfair sometimes in this life. 

Then, I looked out onto the forrest floor. The sun was shining through the timber casting a golden blanket of light over the leaves. I could hear the breeze gently kiss each leaf, one by one, until the trees crescendoed and erupted into the powerful sound of whistling wind. I watched nature obediently surrender. It laid down it’s life. The leaves fell. The brush, once lush and green, was now cracked and dry and casting seeds onto the bed of leaves below. It’s final and valiant act of bravery before it dies. The deer are rutting right now. Bucks are locking down on does to create the next generation in the herd. To prosper and grow.

Faith.

Spring is not near. No. In fact, what’s ahead is likely another very cold and dangerous winter. Why is nature acting like spring is next? Casting seeds, mulching the ground below, procreation instead of fear and desolation?

Because, despite what it feels like, this is not the end. The wise and old woods know about the promise. They have survived rattling and ferocious winters. They have faced a desert of ice and snow that seemed to have no end, but spring has always come. So their final act before they surrender to the snow is to use their last strong breath to declare the promise of spring. A nod to God’s faithfulness.

Faith. 

That He who started a good work in you, will carry it on into completion. That the suffering won’t be wasted. That he makes all things beautiful in it’s time. It’s radical. It’s downright rebellious. It’s inspiring. 

I’ve been in the valley. I just wanted to curl up on a ball and give up at times, but I heard God’s voice whisper in the wind. His goodness. His faith in us. 

Romans 5:8, “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

Spring is coming. Though, all we can see is winter. 

“As wounds which mar the chosen One,
Bring many sons to glory”

In fact, it’s the ferocity and desperation of winter that makes spring so sweet. Winter is next, my dear friends. Some of us are in it already. I’m so sorry. I’m so, very sorry. I can’t take the cup from you. But, God has been true to His promises, and though we will still bare the scars of winter, spring will come. 

All of my love,
-Darla

 

 

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