Once green, now the leaves on a tree right outside my dining room is changing their colors. So much has happened within the last two weeks. We moved from Maryland to Virginia. We found a new school for our daughter. Then M had to go on a business trip leaving us to deal with the changes on our own. Each day, I was going through a range of different emotions. I was busy, of course, getting settled into the new house and helping my daughter adjust to her new school routine, and applying for jobs and going through interviews. But staying busy did not stop me from feeling, reacting to my daily events from the place where my raw emotions are vigorously alive.
Even though I still have a lot to maneuver, I finally have some time to sit down and enjoy what this new house has to offer. It’s a cozy place. I love diffusing my essential oil by my dining room window. This room receives the full sunlight throughout the day. The sunrise from the big window is so mesmerizing and I have been documenting the first morning light every single day since I moved here. Big part of me still misses my country house dearly. I miss how I used to just step out on my deck and instantly find myself surrounded with the natural wonders. I felt like I was living in a national state park. It was such a privilege.
Now I watch every sunrise in the comfort of my dining room. I will appreciate this new location especially during the winter season. I enjoyed stepping out into the freezing cold air to appreciate the early dawn of the winter back in my country home. If you haven’t tried, you should. It’s so magical, especially on the morning after the snowy night. But my little toddler was never too into feeling the brutal cold air on her soft skin the first thing in the morning. So that meant that I had to give up my sacred morning ritual on most days during the winter. Now, I don’t have to go out. The sunrise will come right into my warm house.
I dropped my daughter off at her school and stepped back into the house. It felt so empty without her. I felt this huge void in my heart as I could almost visualize my daughter sitting at the top of the steps, welcoming me. But she wasn’t there. She was at her new school, doing her part to adjust to the new changes, to make new friends, and getting out of her comfort zone. I came up to my living room and saw my toddler’s pink toys in her small play area. I could not suppress the emotions any more. I cried.
I sat at my dining table to pray. I prayed for God to give me courage and strength as I go through this sudden change that my heart had not desired. It just happened and I was not prepared emotionally, as most things in life go. There’s just so much fear and anxiety in me, the same fear that governed my childhood mind. It’s still there.
As I swallow this deep fear of the unknown, I take a deep inhale and let out an even deeper exhale. I can feel God holding my existence in the palm of His secure hand. Just as the automatic rising and falling of the inhale and exhale, all my human efforts come to a complete silence. Pause. A peaceful cease of my all-human battle that I’ve brought onto myself. With every struggle I make to maintain this peaceful state throughout the day, all I have to do is to remember the big hands of God holding me still. He protects me. He moves me. He guides me. He’s got me. Not just my back, but my entire being.
When I finally lifted my eyes, I saw it. The tree that was once green, just two weeks ago when we first moved here, has changed its colors. Its deeply red and orange, although some greens still remain. I assume in a couple of weeks the leaves will completely finish their preparation for the fall. And then, they will fall one by one baring their naked limbs. Before we know it, winter will be upon us. And then, once again, we will be amazed how that shift from fall to winter has occurred so effortlessly.
I think the secret of the beauty of grace is hidden in the life of a tree.