“To Everything, There is a Season”

I have done a good deal of “traveling” this summer . . .but  have only left the rabbitpatch a  half dozen times or so.  I spent the last five days in Elizabeth City.  How good to have a leisure visit with my beloved daughter and grandchildren.  I feel quite indulged to have such a privilege.  I see first hand, how the girls “find their day” , how they play, what things they celebrate  . . . in short, “who they are.”  I treasure the moments, thoroughly.   
Little Brynn, at two, has a lot pf expressions as she talks It is adorable, just to see. She has the face of a cherub. any way.  She gave me several lectures about healthy food and the value of brushing teeth.  Brynn can carry a tune like a little songbird, which delights me and  she knows what a rose is and also a crepe myrtle.   She stands in her mothers’ shadow, most of the time. 
Lyla  is quite self sufficient and quite organized.  She  continues to have a great sense of compassion and therefore is tender hearted.  Lyla starts school this year.  She is as ready as can be, academically   -but , I am not so ready. Of course, I cried when she lost her first tooth. Childhood is just not long enough to suit me. 
The summer here, has been a bit cooler, than in other years, but that week, was a hot one.   The air was about sultry in the evenings.  The mimosa tree took full advantage  of the conditions, and sweetened the air generously.  The mimosa tree is quite a common sight in the south.  Every patch of wood and field is host to the mimosa.  I have never known any one to plant them, many yards have a mimosa.  If you have one, you are bound to have two, as the mimosa springs up freely and without a bit of reservation. It may be said, that the mimosa trees are “a dime a dozen”,  so to me they are a miraculous bargain.  The same can be said of fire flies . . .and stars.   
The rest of my “traveling” has occurred right  here on the humble soil of the rabbitpatch territory.  There is a routine -I gather fallen branches which takes several strolls.  I take account of the grapevines, and the fruit trees. I cut the wicked thorned vines and look for poison vines-and I am thinking the whole while.  I have made good progress on this remnant of a farm.  Everything is tidy, so  there has been some profit in my meandering. 
Aside from that, I remain at a “crossroads”,  of sorts. I came to this place a few months ago and still, I stand dazed, almost rooted to the same spot. If “patience is a virtue”, I at least, have accomplished that. I liken the situation to receiving some announcement of upheaval  with a “no action required on your part” included in the closing salutation.  Certainly, there is some action on my part-I am filing for social security and I am putting the house on the market-but in both cases, the process is slow and the results of either are vague.   . .So, I stand .  I have stood so long, the place is starting to  feel familiar-not as strange as it used to be.  The thickness of  “this fog”, still obscures my vision.   . .but fog being mysterious  . .also , creates a heightened sense of awareness.  My mind went down a hundred “rabbit holes” and I “backtracked” quite a bit.  I stumbled from one circle to another, never leaving the spot, I fell in to.   . .and that is how I ended up with a very tidy rabbitpatch! 
Sometimes . . .I act like Peter “I do not know Him” and sometimes I am like Thomas, “Show me”.  This confession shames me, but one  must know the truth, to be set free. I do not like  life altering circumstances that seem to shift like sand in a whirlwind.  I confess that too.  Then again, it is those very  kind of circumstances that teach the  greatest lessons.  I chide myself  for saying it again,  so consider this my own personal necessity to “second”  the subject. 
My maternal grandmother, used to say “you can laugh about it or cry.”  as she was snapping beans,not even looking up  -and most especially when neither she nor I could fix something.  How pert that sounded in my youth!  How wise it sounds now.
 Meanwhile, the peach trees hang full of gold, and the the grape vines and the pear are full of jade.  Apples are scarce, so the squirrels are making haste to eat them extra green.  The black eyed susans are in full bloom and almost glow.  These things remind me, that as it is written . . .“To everything, there is a season.”


18 thoughts on ““To Everything, There is a Season”

    1. Oh how clever you are-and right. I can not yet give a full account of one issue, but know this I and my family are all well and this aggravating thing will pass. your concern touches me deeply and makes a difference. thank you, and love, Michele

      Liked by 1 person

  1. It seems that caring for the Rabbitpatch is good therapy for you. I find the same when in my garden. The mind rests or ‘travels’ as you put it, but I and the garden always come away the better for it.

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  2. It can be very hard to be patient when you’re waiting for things to sort themselves out! But I think you are handling it well, and remembering that when the time is ready, the change will come. Thinking of you, Michele!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. It is so true what scripture teaches us…’to everything there is a season.’ But, in every season, God is there for us, holding us close, guarding our footsteps. He sees beyond the fog, knows the passage before we pass through. How blessed we are to be in the safest of hands, loved by our Heavenly Father, no matter the season, no matter the time or place.

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  4. When we were children, we lived boldly. Climbed the water tower, lit firecrackers in our hands after a hundred warnings against it. We made jumps so our bicycles could fly through the air. We set out on bikes with no destination or plan or backup (or cell phone!). No lunch, no tools, no roadside assistance. We trespassed when necessary to get to the best fishing holes. We re-arranged the letters on the drive-in marquee on a dare, and took a few to take home (and got caught by the sheriff soon after.)
    I am reminding myself often these days of the great thrill and reward of living boldly.
    You have a tremendous and fail-proof safety net below you in the form of loyal and capable family.
    We can live boldly in our own age-appropriate way. I probably won’t climb the water tower, though you never know. But I can still jump a bicycle like nobody’s business.
    As long as I can.
    Go ahead Michele- live as you love- boldly.



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  5. Sorry we didn’t get to see each other while you were here . Maybe next time . I know you will be guided by your faith and get through to the peace you deserve . Love you ! Elaine

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  6. All the Time we wait is a journey to Higher Love. I’m learning that I can still be who I am, when someone I love chooses to be someone else for a while. I thought their choices left no choice left to be me. It gave me time to see I always dreamed kids could grow up not caring what anyone thinks. I just didn’t look far enough ahead to see it had to include me. I have plenty of Love to remember in the meantime, enough to remember how the story will end. Thank you for all the walks you share. I can smell the weight of mimosa in the air – and I don’t know what it is. 🙂 People are looking for rabbit patches these days. I think I found mine back home in Kansas. love, Debra

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