Seasons

I had been out of sync with my running, between work and family and all that fall brings. So I was so excited to head out the door for a run on my favorite trail for the first time in weeks.

Even more exciting was the scene that greeted me: the trail was completely covered with freshly-fallen yellow leaves. It was like running on some sort of painting that had been intentionally marked with different shades of gold. 

Beautiful. 

But dangerous, as anyone who has run on trails can attest. When the trails are covered with leaves, you can't see the roots or rocks or ditches. Young runners often find themselves splayed face down on a trail because of the hidden obstacles. (I did when I started running on trails!)

"Tis the season for leaves," I thought to myself, thinking not only of Fall and Thanksgiving but of the always-closer-than-I'm-ready-for Christmas. From there, my mind wandered to other seasons: not just seasons of the year but seasons of life...the seasons of adolescence, young adulthood, newlyweds, and beyond.

Seasons of running. Seasons of life. 

So much in common yet so very different. The seasons of running are cyclical, knowing that this fall will be much like last fall and next fall. But seasons of life are all different, all new, all unfamiliar. Seasons of running are something you can anticipate and actually get pretty accustomed to; seasons of life come at you with little to no warning or preparation.

I reflected on the season of sleep deprivation I had when my kids were little. I'd lay in bed every night, utterly exhausted, barely muttering a prayer asking God to help me get through the next day. That season seemed like it would never end. And then one day I looked around at my life and realized I was no longer a walking zombie; I could form sentences that made sense and actually had the time and energy to fix a meal for my family every now and then.

I then took the time to pray for my friends and family who are going through their own trying seasons right now:

The season of caring for elderly, struggling parents.
The season of learning to be married in a way that honors God and your husband, realizing that it is so much harder than you thought it would be.
The season of watching your children reject all you've taught them and lived for.
The season of learning to accept God's plan for your life and realizing it wasn't what you wanted or thought it would be.

Seasons.

Each beautiful. Each dangerous. Each full of their own blessings and trials and benefits and hardships. 

Solomon understood the significance of seasons:

"There is an occasion for everything, and a time for every activity under heaven:
a time to give birth and a time to die; 
a time to plant and a time to uproot; 
a time to tear down and a time to build; 
a time to weep and a time to laugh; 
a time to mourn and a time to dance; 
a time to embrace and a time to avoid embracing;
a time to search and a time to count as lost;
a time to be silent and a time to speak;
a time to love and a time to hate; 
a time for war and a time for peace.
(Ecclesiastes 3:8, selected, HCSB)

You're in a season right now. It won't last forever. It hit you like a hurricane and might leave you in a tidal wave. 

But it's part of running. It's part of life. It's part of God's plan.

And as you see the changing of the running seasons, perhaps you'll embrace the season of your own life, thank God for being with you as you run through it, and know with certain hope that, just like leaf-strewn trails, it will not last.