Changing

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It is a cold and stormy night.  Yet I, alone in my room, fear not.  The crickets chirp continuously, as though their sound were the norm and silence something exceptional.  There is nothing to report about my day other than the back-bending work of studying German grammar and vocabulary, relaxing in a bubbly Jacuzzi for half an hour and preparing a Greek salad for dinner. 

Living at home is challenging to my preconceived idea of freedom, and of peace, and of acceptance.  Old feelings come up like buried shoes in snow, having been lost only because I took them off in the first place to explore the feeling of snow, only to discover its coldness, and then realizing that enough time had lapsed to cover the shoes completely.  I'd have to wait for the sun to melt the snow, uncover them and wear them once more.

Each day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years like a day.  As little happens here, a lot transpires.  Like the shedding of a snake's skin in the hot desert sun, occurring without attempt on my part, I am changing skins. In this time, I am shedding a layer of my old self, and renewing the strength within me.  

As the seasons change and we alongside with them, there is a demand on the senses that pushes us always inwards to test and reassure our souls.  The feelings of joy and peace and love that are promised as fruits of the Holy Spirit become the harvest of our labor of love only in season, but before then there is a lot of soul-searching for answers we had known before, and a lot of supernatural changes that we must accept as part of the godly nature within.

 

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