When I write about cultivating glory, of course I imagine myself in the role of cultivator. I picture myself as the active one, the one doing the work, the person in control of shaping her days and shaping her life and shaping her place.
Illness will knock you right off that pedestal. And illness comes to everyone now and again.
It came to me at the end of July, I was worn out by work (good work!) and so a chest cold triggered my asthma before fall allergies piled on.
I thought my healing would come with time, but apparently it needed time plus a caring doctor and a pile of new medications and treatments–so many medications, in fact, that taking them in the appropriate amounts at the appropriate times has become the new rhythm of my days.
And rather than feeling burdened or bothered, as I might have predicted, I feel held as if by some unseen hand and some new grace.
I write a great deal in this space about the rhythms of our lives and of the natural world.
I try, as much as possible, to keep my living in step with the seasons in every sense. I love my routines, but I also love that they shift with the shifting earth. My summer mornings are not like my winter mornings.
But there are other kinds of seasons in life, aren’t there?
Seasons of health and seasons of sickness. Seasons of abundance and seasons of drought. Noisy seasons and quiet ones. Seasons of movement and seasons of stillness.
And like you, I imagine, I have my preferences. I love the beauty and swift changes of spring and fall. I would rather be strong and healthy than sick.
But there is a grace in the quiet darkness of winter, and I am finding a grace in the daily routines of pills and inhalers.
Have you ever been held in unexpected ways?
What is shaping time for you as summer shifts to fall?