Burnt Autumn

It's the first Sunday of October. I am sitting on my bed, still in my pajamas, cat curled up in rumpled blankets next to me, and air conditioner whirring loudly, competing with the music that plays softly from my laptop.

I have a headache and woke up with allergies this morning. My head just feels somewhat foggy this morning, like my brain is still half asleep, but I digress.

It's 100 degrees at this very moment. When all I want is autumnal weather, we've been getting triple digits. I want to view the 10-day forecast and see 70's {okay, even low 80's would be acceptable}.

A couple of weeks ago we had a string of scorching days topping out at 108. One hundred eight! I remember having a discussion with coworkers about our lovely saucer magnolias outside our office which typically bloom in October. Their green leaves, instead of falling off before the blooms appear, were simply being burnt to a crispy brown.

I wondered how this would ultimately affect the magnolias. A week later, I had my answer.

They still bloomed. Amid the dead leaves, they bloomed.

And I don't know why this struck me as so astonishingly miraculous, but it did.

But that's exactly what happens, even with us. Sometimes, things just need to be thoroughly burnt up before the newness.

Sometimes, it's unseasonably hot {or cold, or whatever} but it's where we are right now. There are lessons to be learned here. Right here.

I have wasted far too much precious time wishing things were different instead of embracing my days.

I so want to learn how to embrace my days better. I don't want to wish my days away, or foolishly tell myself that, "It will be better when fill-in-the-blank."  Even the hardest of all days is a gift.

After all, it seems to be the hardest of all our days that have the propensity to significantly shape us. I know that it is the time in those long valleys that have made me the person I am today.

I also know that autumn weather will eventually arrive. It just will. The shadows lengthen and air chills.

The changing seasons. Beauty for the ashes. New things from the burnt places.

Grace for each day.