When I saw the first leaf fall, it was still the dog days of Summer, and it reminded me how quickly new seasons sneak up on us.  A week or two passed, and yesterday was already the last 8:00 p.m. sunset, with each new sunset occurring two minutes earlier than the last. And here I am acknowledging how strange the overlap of seasons can be. 

***

I wear sweatshirts on the walk to school, and I shed that sweatshirt on the same walk home. I don’t want Summer to end while I’m soberly aware the pace of Summer is unsustainable. The sun is hot enough to make me jump in the pool, and the water cool enough to make me jump out. I rejoice at how our youngest boy is flourishing in school, and I yearn for his afternoons with me at home. I rush to pick up our littlest from preschool, and I wait in the awkward gap before the next pick up. I am dropping the oldest off for cross country practice, and I am carrying a toddler on my hip. I am watching my spouse grow handsome with wisdom, and I am still in love with the ornery boy I married in my twenties. I am acutely aware of the beauty in front of my face, and I am desperate for Christ to set this all right. 

What season is this? 

***

Start. Stop. Fast. Slow. Hot. Cold. Up. Down. In. Out. Happy. Sad. Excess. Insufficiency. Verbose. Silent. Full throttle. Brakes. Tired. Amped. Speak up. Stay silent. Push through. Relinquish. Pray it works out. Pray it doesn’t. 

I will trust the Lord. 

My personality likes one or the other. The overlap can feel like such a mess. What do we do with this strange space of not being there anymore and not being there quite yet? 

I will not lean on my own understanding. 

When our boxes feel askew, when our lines zigzag, and the edges feel squiggly, the horizon blurry. When we can’t find our footing, or we’re unsure how this all turns out. When there is an I don’t know circling in our head or on our lips. There—yes, in this awkward, messy gap, is one of the sweetest invitations to come empty and listen.

In all my ways, I will seek Him. 

Jesus, it feels like too much. Jesus, it feels like not enough. The mess of this life is so beautifully and painfully overwhelming that Lord, I just don’t know. I just don’t know. 

Who said we had to? What season is this? Let’s ask a better question: What does surrender look like right now? Here, Lord, we offer You the fragments because no matter how orderly and in control we felt, we never were. But You, O Lord, are worthy and able and willing to receive our worn pieces. You do more than we ask or imagine, so we defer to You.

He will make my paths straight. 

***

As I drove to meet a friend last week, by default I began to fill the car time. Five extra minutes? Fire off an email. Waiting in the car? Better call a friend. Standing in my kitchen? I could load a dish. 

Or—

I could pause. 

Inhale. 

Give us today our daily bread.

Exhale. 

And listen to my good, good God. 

Lord, help us to trust You more and more.

***

Also, hi! What are you reading? 

I am currently in the middle of a couple books. One of those is Safe All Along. I always enjoy Katie Davis Majors’ story weaving that points me to trusting Christ. Do you have more than one book going at the same time? It’s encouraging to me that completely different topics can complement each other in how they simultaneously work on me. What a great example of how the Lord knows the puzzle pieces we need in the moment we need them.

***

If I were to designate an article of the week, it would be this one. Holy Ambition Doesn’t Hurry. I hope you enjoy it!

***

Thanks for tolerating my wildly inconsistent posting rhythm. I’ve been taking a book proposal course to keep chipping away at publishing a manuscript I’ve hammered on for years. My book is a story about engaging a God who is different than we expected. This week, I submitted the complete proposal to my instructor. It’s that moment where you’re giddy to have progress and terrified at how deficient that progress might be. Gulp. Shoulders back. Deep breath. Constructive criticism is a gift! I am a woman secure in Christ! 

–Paige