A Season of Change
There is something so cozy about those first gray days of autumn. Much as I love summer and dread winter, I’m so grateful the colorful whirl of summer doesn’t drop off into the drab silence of winter in a grinding halt. Autumn is such a nice transition. I love the vibrant colors, digging out cozy sweaters, and eating comfort food.
Most of all, I love the way life feels slower, even if it isn’t. Spring feels so energizing and will forever be my favorite. But there is something about autumn that feels as though the entire world is doing something restful … kind of the equivalent of a walk at sunset. I love to watch leaves drift to the ground, the goldenrod waving in the wind, steam rising from mugs of hot tea.
I wish life would slow down a little bit, too. It’s hard to imagine that some day we’re going to be in the autumnal season of life and feel like our days are long and slow. Some day I’ll be up until 1:00 because of insomnia, not because I can’t get enough done in the daytime. We’re living in summer right now with all it’s color and noise and activity.
As though life with three kids and homeschooling weren’t crazy enough on it’s own, David and I are signed up to to do a life counseling course this fall and winter. David has been wanting to go ever since we moved here to help him with the work he is doing at camp. I’ve been balking. Mostly because I couldn’t figure out what to do with the kids and partially because I wasn’t sure how in the world I was going to read through the required reading during the school year. By the time I get to the end of the day my brain is fried, not ready to dig into complex thought patterns. And thirdly, I was scared. I’ve been to counseling before … not often but enough to know that you either resonate with the counselor or you don’t. This is more of a group work thing and I’ve got a few fears about that, too. But my one main fear was what would happen to me afterward. While I’ve worked through a lot of the shattered pieces of my past, I don’t know what will happen if I need to revisit them. I’ve learned to know God in incredible, life-giving, foundational ways in the last five years. I would like to believe that the truths that have replaced the lies I believed are strong enough to let me talk about pain without becoming undone, but I don’t know that. I want to learn more truth … but I don’t know about doing it in the middle of a school year when there is not time for phsyical, mental, and emotional rest.
Meanwhile, I’ve started on the daunting book list and the reading is phenomenal! I have three books to read before the middle of November and I’ve been plugging away at the first for over a month. I’m telling you, this is a problem. I sit down to read and promptly fall asleep. It’s not the kind of reading you can do when the kids are catapulting in the living room and you barely notice they’re saying they’re hungry because it’s captivating. But it is, oh, so good. My first book is, Cry of the Soul, by Dan Allender and Tremper Longman III. Incredible book about emotions and how instead of calling them good or bad, we should let them guide us to the hard questions we’re really trying to ask.
Thoughts like these really resonated with me:
Because I want to eliminate struggle: “Therefore, don’t assume that resolving your turbulent emotions is the key to meeting God. …. The absence of tumult, more than its presence, is an enemy of the soul. God meets you in your weakness, not in your strength. He comforts those who mourn, not those who live above desperation. He reveals Himself more often in darkness than in the happy moments of life.”
Because I have had types of pain where this is true: “Another way to dull the intensity of our inward groaning is by attempting to avoid our emotions. For many, strong feelings are an infrequent, foreign experience. Their inner life is characterized by an inner coolness, bordering on indifference. Unfortunately, this is often mistaken for trust. In many circles passionate emotions are discouraged as unspiritual. You are considered godly if you can handle difficult trials with a detached and apparently unruffled confidence.
“But this conclusion is wrong. There are times when lack of emotion is simply the by-product of hardness and arrogance. The Scriptures reveal that this absence of feelings is often a refusal to face the sorrow of life and the hunger for heaven; it is not a mark of maturity, but rather the boast of evil.”
And on page 24, “Emotions open the door to asking hard questions: Does life make sense? Is there any real purpose to my pain? Why must every relationship end? Is God good? If we are to understand ourselves honestly — and, more importantly, know God — we must listen to our emotions.”
Emotions are really like a window to our soul. They reflect the drives, passions and gods of our soul. They are an invitation to see deep into our heart and repent of unholy motivation if we choose to think about the why behind the emotion that surfaced instead of only dealing with the emotion itself. I was surprised, when I tried this the next time I felt crazy indignation rise up inside of me. It’s so true. So many times when we feel anger, it’s not even so much at the situation itself, but about something bigger. Is life fair? Is God fair? Is God going to work things out for good in my life?
I’m excited about reading the rest of the list … assuming I can stay awake to do it!
“Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.”
I am currently reading this same stack of books. I am enjoying reading the Cry of the Soul too. But in reading your post I am starting to get nervous… not sure what we are getting ourselves into! 🙂
I hope you continue to share what you are learning with us. We can benefit second hand from your effort.
And I do hope that the counseling course is a valuable experience, better than you fear.
Thanks,
Gina