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During the past few weeks, I have watched a glorious change of seasons begin in the mountains surrounding my home. With it, we are easing into my favorite season of the year; I agree with poet Stanley Horowitz, who penned, “Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting, and autumn a mosaic of them all.” It seems that as each season fades I look toward the next with energy and excitement, ready for all it will bring—even those things not yet seen or known.
During those same few weeks, I have been easing into a new season in my life—one that is bringing me peace and hope and renewed faith. I have looked at it much as I have looked at the magic of the changing leaves around me—with a sense of wonder and gratitude. But as I reflected on the changing seasons of a life that spans the decades, I asked myself, Am I even a fraction as eager when facing my own change of seasons as I am to see the change in seasons around me?
The answer gives me pause. I embrace the new season I am facing today. But I can’t say the same for every new season that has entered my life and swept me into new circumstances. New possibilities, often with unmeasured risks. Some filled with such uncertainty I doubted my ability to navigate them. New horizons—some of them bringing the prospect of frigid winds, some bringing the promise of gentle warmth, much like this sunrise over the Atlantic we captured one still, tranquil morning just a few months into our marriage.
But then I realized the upside in every change of season: there is beauty to be found in every changing of the earth’s seasons. And there is a deep, innermost grace to be found in standing firm, meeting the changing of each of the heart’s seasons as well, because in them we can also find beauty—even if not apparent at first. To read more, click below.
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- Written by Kathryn Jenkins Oveson
I have always loved the sentiment of nineteenth-century naturalist and essayist John Burroughs:
How beautifully leaves grow old.
How full of light and color are their last days.
Last days. We suffered two deaths in my husband’s family last week: his father on Tuesday, his mother on Friday. They divorced decades ago and were living on opposite coasts, which made the timing even more surreal. As we navigated through that experience, my mind naturally moved to last days. They now know theirs.
Mine are still coming.
So are yours.
I might be traversing my last days right now. So might you. For most of us, those last days sneak silently up, catching us unawares. Even if we have some idea of their approach, the exact day and time evade us until that time arrives with its silent finality. To read more, click the button below.
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- Written by Kathryn Jenkins Oveson
Stones are one of the most commonplace objects on the earth. If you’re like me, you’re probably often surrounded by stones without being all that aware of them. You walk on them. You take them for granted as part of your surroundings. Maybe you’ve even picked a few up and tossed them across the glassy surface of a still lake without giving the stones themselves much thought.
By themselves, stones don’t account for much. But combined with the power of the Lord, they are everything.
Think of the small, humble shepherd boy who stood with the Israelite army as they faced the daunting army of the Philistines. It was tradition that each army chose one man to represent it; the victor of the battle between these two delegates determined which army won the war. To read more, click the button below.
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- Written by Kathryn Jenkins Oveson
“Every time I witness a strong person, I want to know: What darkness did you have to conquer in your story?” penned author Katherine MacKennett. “Mountains do not rise without earthquakes.”
As I think of the strongest people I have known, I realize that they are those who have grappled with struggle, known defeat, endured suffering, dealt with profound loss, and—against all odds—have found their way out of the depths of those battles of the soul. They remind me that strong people don’t just happen. To read more, click the button below.
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- Written by Kathryn Jenkins Oveson
I love the parable of the lost sheep. I especially love the pivotal question posed by Luke: “What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it?” (Luke 15:4).
Jesus often used sheep as He taught, and there’s a good reason for that. In Jesus’s day, sheep were considered a prized possession; you were considered wealthy if you owned large flocks of sheep. But perhaps more pertinent to the Savior were the characteristics of sheep. Sheep are sweet and loving. Placid. Peaceful. The sheep pay undivided attention to their shepherd; they respond to his voice. Go where he directs. Follow him without question. To read more, click the button below.
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- Written by Kathryn Jenkins Oveson