Ecclesiastes 3: 1 To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under heaven: 2 A time to be born, And a time to die; A time to plant, And a time to pluck what is planted;3 A time to kill, And a time to heal; A time to break down, And a time to build up; 4 A time to weep, And a time to laugh; A time to mourn, And a time to dance; 5 A time to cast away stones, And a time to gather stones; A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing; 6 A time to gain, And a time to lose; A time to keep, And a time to throw away; 7 A time to tear, And a time to sew; A time to keep silence, And a time to speak; 8 A time to love, And a time to hate; A time of war, And a time of peace.
This verse has been my touchstone when I thought that my pain was too much to bear; the promise that seasons are defined by their very limits. It's also been my permission to embrace joy; the truth that seasons are expressed in unspeakable beauty. This blog is just a reflection of whatever season I am in. You'll find here a woman trying to figure out what color to paint her bedroom as well as one who is often afraid and faithless. You'll also find someone who will shamelessly ask for prayer and then sleep peacefully believing she is being brought before the throne. I won't promise you another season of devotions, comedies, tragedies, book reviews or the adventures of a new old house. The next post, like the next season, is sometimes as much a mystery to me as to you. I am honored by those who journey with me despite the fact that I am quite awful about commenting although I visit with all of you daily. Please forgive me for that. One thing is certain, that for every human experience, God has created a season big enough to contain it. Of infinite comfort to me is that the painful, faithless, fearful seasons have their limits and eventually must unfold into times to love, laugh and dance. Welcome to the season of grace, which never ends.