Four Girls Later

In preparation for a new season, so much must die to give way to new life. 

 So often I think of summer and spring as the fertile seasons. Blossoming vegetation. Reproduction of all of life’s little creatures. 

The proverbial spring and summer have been bountiful to me. 

Fall and winter are where we are led to let things go, shedding outer shells… watching autumn leaves scatter to the ground 

where hibernation beckons, and the only sustenance we have is that which we’ve hoarded. 

And yet,things are always dying to make room for something new. 

One generation slips away for another to emerge. 

Friendships that no longer feel warm. 

Lingering in rooms you no longer feel a part. 

Emotional removal of collective cares. 

Holy indifference to family quarrel. 

Even good things must come to an end. 

Except of course, those that remain. I’m learning how truly small the list is of what remains Constant, unchangeable, unwavering, forever. 

While chicks hatch at the sounds of early spring. Black bear cubs are born in hibernation during brisk winter conditions. Cubs nurse and grow while the mother remains in an almost sleep like state. 

No matter how fertile and warm nor cold and isolate, new life can be found. 

And so, much must die in me every day so that new life is possible. 

New locations. New people. New seasons.

I so desire that less of me arrives to these new destinations. As I wait, things must die. 

I must decrease. 

He must increase. 

There was a day that I died to Sara Rivera. Except Muller never quite explained that it was a series of dyings. He didn’t just claim he died to himself but he died to the world. I would say he died to the opinion of man – both approval and condemnation. 

Because the truth is, that’s dying in me. The cost of death of oneself is high. The cost of death to others opinions. It’s painful. The cost of not defending yourself, achingly difficult. 

And yet, It gives way to double imputation. 

This two way exchange happens. As I die. 

Not just the forgiveness of my sins (which are abounding) to eternal life. 

But Jesus’s righteousness credited to me. 

My good. His glory. 

Shine your light.

xoxo,

Sara