How's That Again?: The Crucible

The 2012 NFL preseason kicked off tonight. What a relief! Fall is coming. As a cherry on top of that tidbit of information, the Saints beat the Cardinals. Well, whatever, they're not MY team, just the better of the two, in this girl's opinion...

I guess I'm not writing tonight to talk about football, but this is a seasonal change I'm not afraid of and my mind is weird... somehow I managed to make a strong connection between the NFL, thanksgiving, beauty, trees, trust, restoration and giving.

Let me try to hoist you up onto this moving train of thought I'm conductor and engineer of:

Call it what you want, the summer of 2012 has been intense. The Fallow Season, The Season of Darkness, The Season of Crossroads, The Drought Season. My fake big sister is referring to it as my Crucible Summer. She's (as usual) perfectly accurate:

cru·ci·ble (krs-bl)n.

1. A vessel made of a refractory substance such as graphite or porcelain, used for melting and calcining materials at high temperatures.

2. A severe test, as of patience or belief; a trial.

3. A place, time, or situation characterized by the confluence of powerful intellectual, social, economic, or political forces.

I should note that the "crucible-ed-ness" of the summer is not anything like the "destruction-for-the-sake of-restoration" season I had come out of prior to beginning this blog. Rather, the Crucible Summer, in hindsight, is shaping up to look more like an End-of-the-Quarter Test in each of the classes of Trust, Faith, Hope and Love.

That being said, let me get back to this train of thought we're trying to catch:

Thanksgiving:

Although I'm not blogging much this summer, I'm still scribbling in my tattered blue journal. Actually, I filled that and started to tatter a red one, but I digress... I've poured my heart out and relentlessly presented my requests to God. Quite honestly, I've been convinced that I live in a soundproof, padded cell. I still ask, seek, knock, trust, without comfort or understanding for days sometimes. I've had no choice. I can't go back to Egypt, yet I haven't arrived at my Promise Land...

So, I needed a shift in focus- a change of season. I'm sick of me. Sick of the fears. Sick of the mourning in me. Sick of restlessness and despairing thoughts. I begged God to give me a new focus... He did. This time "Thanksgiving" has been the flickering word and with it this set of verses:

1 Thessalonians 5:14-22

And we urge you, brothers, admonish the idle, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all. See that no one repays anyone evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to everyone. Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. Do not quench the Spirit. Do not despise prophecies, but test everything; hold fast what is good. Abstain from every form of evil.

Beauty:

This summer is hot and extremely dry. A little over a month ago most of the Western United States was, seemingly, burning down. Montana was no different. Between June 26th and June 29th, 73 homes and countless livestock and out-buildings were consumed by a wildfire, locally.

Those numbers mean very little until they're personal. They became, quickly, very personal yesterday. I was given the opportunity to work side by side with one of these homeowners. As I stood, knee deep, in the ashes of all that remained of my friend's lifetime of memories, I was nothing short of overwhelmed.

We spent the day sorting, sifting, stacking, digging. Most of the time I busied myself with identifying which of the pipes, wires and chunks of metal I found were copper, steel, or aluminum... and hoisting them out of the basement pit. From there they were piled in their appropriate piles for recycling.

Occasionally, I could identify something recognizable: A Kitchen Aid bowl, a stack of mostly shattered coffee cups, a melted sewing machine, a bicycle- steel of course, the aluminum one was completely incinerated... There were melted clumps of gold, formerly a pair of her special earrings, she thinks... one of her husband's hammers, well, the steel head of it...

Now and then, I would glance at my friend. Strong. Tall. Tired. Hurting inside and out. She's been sorting, sifting, tossing, digging for a month and there's still so much to do before they can bulldoze the foundation and begin to rebuild.

A verse-turned-song kept crossing my mind, soothing my heart, escaping my lips... I sang quietly while we worked. "He gives beauty for ashes, strength for fear, gladness for mourning, peace for despair. He gives peace for despair."

Later we sat around, sipping iced tea, serenading the men with a variety of songs, (sung in rounds, I might add) as they dug a trench. Our little quartet does not have beautiful voices; we will not be touring soon. We couldn't stop laughing...

Life is really so sweet, even covered in ashes.

Trees, Trust, Restoration, Giving

This morning I was thinking about this blog and its title "Seasonal Allergy". Originally I named it that based on my fear of the changing seasons of my life. A million years ago I heard a lady talk about seasons of the tree referenced in Jeremiah 17:7-8:

“But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him.They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.”

On that day, I knew I wasn't that tree. I feared the drought. Tonight, I don't like the Drought Season, but I trust and I continue to sense restoration. I am encouraged to finally be strong enough to be the encourager of friends and a giver of myself again.