
Yesterday morning amber leaves fluttered down from our front yard tree as matching butterflies flitted among them. “It’s the beginning of the end,” I said to myself, realizing that the branches would soon be empty and the butterflies gone.
If only the seasons of life were so easily seen. Over the years, too many transitions have taken me by surprise. Why did I think things wouldn’t change?
Nature’s first green is gold.
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower.
But only so and hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief.
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Robert Frost
I’m typing now from my easy chair while icing a sore left knee. Ten years ago, thirty minutes of yard work wouldn’t have meant this.
Seasons of life.
The Apostle Paul, who wrote much of the New Testament, knew about change. He went from arresting Christians to spreading the gospel message he’d once tried to stop. In the end, his zeal for Christ cost him his earthly life. Yet, he saw the season changing and was prepared.
For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.
2 Timothy 4: 6-7 (NKJV)
Kind reader, I’m not saying it’s near the end for you or me. Who knows? It’s more of a question: what transition is coming soon?
Whatever happens, conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ.
Philippians 1:27a (NIV)
Thank you for reading. 🙏❤️Prayers and love.
The Stigma Stops Here.🛑
#mentalhealthmatters



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