It couldn't make up its mind, although I am not sure it really had one. It would vary from a light lazy summer hinting breeze to a bone-chilling gust. It seemed to generally come out of the west but not always. Sometimes a vicious downdraft would make you long for a toasty fire. And other times you thought it's not too bad; maybe it will clear. Then it would whip into frenzy again.
The weather comedians had predicted as much but I still think they just guess. Patches of sun tickled the trees in the cold, steely grey, swaying and bending in the wind. The tops of the saplings were nearly horizontal but the sturdy oaks barely bent, providing shelter for those that
sought it. But from mist to torrents, it looked more treacherous than tranquil. I guess it's to be expected at this time of year.
Years gust by as we approach our winters. Forebodes of pending storms seem more present than any lazy summer breeze. When we are young we are able to dance in the torrent as saplings, devil-may-care in the rain. But as winter sets in, our dreams turn from snow angels to road hazards as we contemplate our journeys. Worry replaces carefree as we settle in for what might be a blizzard and final outcomes.
But the saplings don't know what the oak surely understands, that all storms will pass with time. The seasons of our lives bring new challenges to be met. And with each passing storm we grow in our strength and compassion for what is and what will be. We may be less carefree, but we have become more caring. Rooted in your faith, you can weather any storm when with those you care about.
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Happy X'mas