I thought of many ways to introduce this post.
I could talk about how much I love my mom. I could talk about how moms have this uncanny way of knowing exactly what you need to hear. I could talk about how this message made me cry, the words meeting me and traveling with me on this primitive road.
But, the simplest thing to do is just explain.
My mom knew that I was struggling with the cold, struggling with Christmas, struggling with adjusting to this new season of life. She sent me an email yesterday. This is what it said:
Sovereign in all seasons. I have been contemplating that theme for awhile. It was a particularly meaningful/challenging/powerful meditation as I decorated the Christmas tree on Sunday afternoon. I’d put it off for over a week, having put the lights on a week ago. Finallly decided I’d better just go for it, anticipating a significant emotional challenge: in 56 years, I have NEVER decorated a Christmas tree by myself.
SO… I put on the Christmas music, Greg had lit a fire and brought in the ornament box, and I prayerfully committed to choose joy and thanksgiving in this new season. It was a constant recommitment, that choosing, as I remembered with so much love the significance of special decorations.
One of my recurrent thoughts, when I felt myself slipping into sorrow, was “What would I want to be different?” My children living at home forever, never experiencing the joy of having a spouse and children of their own? To everything there IS a season, and a time for EVERY purpose under heaven. Amen and Amen.
I was genuinely comforted and experienced a quiet joy knowing that my loving Father is, indeed, designer of all my seasons.
His blessings in the springtime of babies and toddlers, storybooks and puddlejumping; an amazing summer of growing children and a growing faith, Bagelry breakfasts and dinnertime laughter… I’m certain that the God of those precious times and memories will continue to reign in my autumn, orchestrating blazing colors and harvest blessings in my life.
May I not limit His purposes with my fear of the unknown or lack of trust in His sovereignty, love, and care.
That’s my prayer and that was my thought process for a couple of hours on Sunday afternoon. Absolutely earnestly praying for you, my springtime Cria, as you walk with your Abba through your own change of seasons.
~
Seasons, by nature, are ever changing. When one passes, another arrives, bringing its own unique changes and challenges.
My instinct is to rush through each season in hopes of eliminating discomfort. These words reminded me to slow down and embrace the joy in each season.
Emily C Gardner 
I should probably explain something… I loved the book “Is Your Momma a Llama” growing up and have taken to calling my mom, Momma Llama. She figured out that a baby llama is a cria, hence calling me her “spring cria” :)
This is incredible. Thanks for sharing Em and Barb!