What is it about summer that keeps me from doing all the things? Like writing my blog. Is it the heat? I don’t know, but summer has never been my season.

This year has been particularly difficult as our family has needed to place my mom into long term care due to dementia. Seeing someone who has been the leader of our family become like a child has been difficult. I know she’s in the right place and she’s safe, but it just doesn’t seem “right.”

Still I find myself in gratitude. It’s a difficult thanksgiving. Not the typical “yay, for good stuff” and more like “thank you, God. We’ve made it through together.”

Thanksgiving when life isn’t what you thought it would be is a different beast. It’s acceptance of the mess and going through anyway.

I don’t find myself as tired as I was in months past, so that’s an assurance I’m being walked through the mess with Christ by my side.

And now it’s August. Expectation of a new season is with me. I’ve always preferred autumn. Even if it’s the end of the life cycle of leaves and plants, it still holds promise for me. It’s my growing season. My holy time.

I pray in advance of this season. I pray for growth, contentment, good habits and abundance. A personal harvest of maturity and grace.