new life

I walk through the door into the crisp air that holds breathe of new life. Buds have appeared on the trees, hints of green shower the barren trees with hope and promise. The setting sun sending it's golden hues through the majestic trees, to gently kiss my face.

This place, so peaceful, so pure, so full of promise, has been my home. Tears have been spilt onto dark wood floors, in unbearable pain and with no holding back of grief pouring forth. Laughter has danced through these walls, and rung with sweet joy. Life created, life lost, life born, and life lived... Every grain that runs along these wood walls, and grooves that scatter the floor, all hold memories in it's grasps, refusing to let go. In my feeble attempt I hold dear, wanted to pull up every floor board, every nail, for how dare it hold onto these treasures and not share with me what has been.

I breathe in deep, and the wind wraps me in it's cold embrace. I gaze upon this land, of the death that lie in crumpled leaves, in the strands of old grass, that hold root amongst newcomers. The leaf must fall, in it's due time, to make way for a new season, so the story may go on. The grass must lay aside is glory and color, to make way for new life. All lay aside, stepping down, away from comfort, so that new beauty can bare forth, can flourish.

This home. This place. This haven, that has held every memory, every laughter, every tear, every hurt, and every joy... this house, my home. How to step away, to end a season, so that new life, new memories, new dreams and hopes, can spring forth... how to fly away to new roots... new challenges, new life? How?

My eyes close... and when they open they fall to the grains of old wood on a banister. No rhyme, no reason to the flow and direction to which the lines run. Yet, in this old piece of art created by God, there is beauty. Beauty in the chaos. Beauty in the lines, in the change, in the old, in the new, in the richness of the weathered wood. How curious... Is there beauty in this? In this chaos? Is there beauty in the path to be taken, the changes to be made? In the things that have brought us to this point? In the things yet to be discovered? Is there beauty in the weathered soul, that has experienced and seen more then her fair share, that has cried more then enough tears, and laughed more then what is logical? Is there?

Yes.

So how? How does this weathered soul, take flight to new roots, to a new world of unknowns and big changes, and leave the comfort of what is known and what is good? How?

Because... The leaf must fall, in it's due time, to make way for a new season, so that the story can go on. The grass must lay aside is glory and color, to make way for new life. All lay aside, stepping down, away from comfort, so that new beauty can bare forth, can flourish... can be new.

Because... There is beauty in the chaos... in the paths to be taken, and the changes to be made. There is beauty in the past, and in the mystery of the future... there is beauty in this unknown, in this plan that is yet to be revealed in it's full glory.

Because... because even though I may not always know which way the winds will blow, when I'm flying freely in His breeze, I know He is in control.