by Melissa Taft

photos and writing by Sue Duby

A different view today from my favorite coffee shop seat. Raindrops pound the tabletops outside. Golden leaves lie in soggy mounds, scattered across the pavement. Wipers swishing and headlights glaring on every passing car. Likely working up to a mini-flood on the neighboring street. My cold brew tastes. . . cold. Might be time to switch to hot lattes soon. 

Tired of the Arkansas heat (living in shorts and sleeveless tops) and humidity (think major hair frizz), I’ve been whining to Chuck, “I’m ready for cold weather! I’m ready to clean up the garden, but everything is still blooming!” Impatient for the change, eager to move on to the “next.” And yet, now on the first day of “finally feels like Fall,” I’m grumbling at the hidden sunshine.

It’s a wrestling match in this life journey; trying to stay present in the moments, aware and grateful, yet anticipating and welcoming new seasons yet to unfold. Letting go of “what was” to be fully ready to step into “what is”. Recognizing the gifts and joys in either space. Tucking sweet memories away, while making new ones. Seeing His hand and presence in it all.

I recognize my keen ability to grumble in a season, rather than choosing to see the wonder. This morning, Chuck nudged me early to walk, so we’d miss the impending storm. Groaning, I followed him out into the dark–with his headlamp paving the way–me, longing for Daylight Savings to hurry up and bring me morning light. Somewhere along the way, I smiled. “This is a grand adventure! Out before the neighborhood wakes up. Savoring the quiet. Awed by the sunrise at the end of our walk.” Then, a bit shamed realizing next week, when the time changes, I’ll be tempted to grumble about early evening darkness, rather than joying in early sunrise.   


I’m eager to recreate some flower spaces in the garden. Impatient for the first freeze, so I can do some digging. Just yesterday, I discovered blooming roses, daisies, and salvia–enough to make yet one more arrangement. Something flipped and I saw the “other side.” Who gets to play with flowers at the end of October?? A gift in the waiting that I almost missed.

Some season changes require intentional pondering. Not sure how it happened, but the days of jumping on the bed for morning snuggles faded into a grandson turning 13. Grateful for his healthy friendships, active sports life, and maturity, I’ve wrestled with waving goodbye to the little boy and figuring ways to enter his teenage journey. Yesterday, multiple texts led to multiple facetime chats. Lots of paper scribbling, discovering right angles and equation solving, laced with laughter and Nana resurrecting her teacher mode. Finishing off with a “Love you Nana!”.  I smiled. . .grateful for creative connection in the new season.

Seasons are marked by “a particular circumstance or feature.” Sometimes, just a calendar shift, but more often, times in our life journey. He’s crafted every one. I don’t want to hold any too long, rush too fast to the next or skip the one I’m in.  

As Fall manages to squeak in, before holidays arrive, I’m pondering. . .

  • What season am I in?
  • Where do I know His hand has been upon me?
  • Where do I sense His hand is upon me now?
  • Where do I sense Him leading me vs me pressing to make something happen?
  • Am I waiting, rushing, or just contentedly present in the current season?

May every season bring new wonder, fresh insight, gratefulness, and His clear pathway forward.

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.”    Ecclesiastes 3:1

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