Falling Branches

We are getting our first freeze here in Ok today.  It's currently 32 and will be dropping to 29 before the morning.  It's been raining and sleeting (depending on the temp) since early today.  I made it to the store for some ice melt, kleenexes, marshmallows and Redi Whip (because...HOT CHOCOLATE), so we I'm just fine staying inside for the next few days.

Caroline and I were in my bedroom looking at my new bird feeder a few hours ago and heard a large CRACK as a tree branch fell by the barn.  As we started surveying the yard, we found most of the branches on our trees are bent close to the ground--including the 70 year old pecan trees out front.  

Technically it's still fall so our trees are full of leaves.  The trees have been caught unaware and not ready for winter yet.  They haven't shed their leaves yet, so the weather is causing more damage than it normally would when their limbs are bare.

I, of course, could not help but see the analogy to us.  

We all have our things we hold on too.  For trees, their leaves are the things that bring them beauty.  Whether they are budding bright green in the spring or turning yellow and red in the fall.  We judge a tree by its leaves.  It's how we know what type it is.  The leaves are what provide shade in the midst of the summer.  I wonder if the tree feels like those leaves define it...

When winter comes and a tree decides not to give up her leaves, the weight of the ice cause whole branches to crack and break off of her.  It's a horrible sound--I've heard it 3 times this afternoon and my heart drops every time.  

If the tree had given up her leaves before the storm, she would've probably kept all her limbs.  The branches would be bare and able to withstand the weight of the ice clinging to them. And let's face it, it's just beautiful watching multi-colored leaves float to the ground when they aren't covered in ice. 

Are we like those trees?  

How many times do we head into a new season, but refuse to let go of our "leaves?"  How often do we hold tightly thinking we can handle it and pull through?  How many times do we think we are strong enough, yet we are bent so far down under the weight? How many times do we let the leaves define us instead of us?

Instead of letting go so we are upright and whole and can fully embrace the new.

Lord, please give me the wisdom to let go of the old and not only embrace the new season, but to do so with hope and expectancy

 

...and maybe even joy

The Potential Through the Rust

 

Most days I feel like this rusty old chair.  

I found it last week in a pile of weeds.  It was turned upside down and half buried in the mess.  I pulled it out and dusted the dirt off, but, as you can see, there is still a lot of rust.  And the paint has faded so much that it's hard to see the original color.  

As I've been trying to figure out what to do with it, I have noticed a few more things.  It's still very sturdy--the legs that support the chair are barely rusted.  The rust on the seat may actually work to my advantage because it's already released the paint--making it easier to re-finish.  And, let's face it--this chair is a classic--almost everybody's grandma had a few of them.

It also brings back memories of my childhood I had forgotten.  Thoughts of sitting in one like it, with my legs swinging back and forth because they were too short to touch the ground, waiting for my grandpa to finish churning the homemade ice cream.  And getting a taste of what hell felt like as I sat on down on a hot summer day, and burned the backs of my legs--forgetting the sun had warmed it to an ungodly temp.  Those red marks lasted a few days!  And while I can't recall the conversations, I remember aunts and uncles and cousins sitting around in these chairs and feeling very safe as a kid with that many adults around.

You may look at this chair and see a hunk of metal that needs to be tossed.  I get it.  It's old and it might be easier to buy a new one that already has a pretty, shiny coat on it. It will take a lot of hard work to get at that rust and paint that's been baked on.

You might look at it and see the beauty in the natural patina--the colors that show through the rust stains.  You may think it just needs a clear coat on it, allowing it to stay the same color, but protecting it from future elements.

Or, you may not see the chair as it it, but what it can be.  The color it can be after it's sanded down, primed and re-painted.  You may envision the perfect spot for it on a porch with a pillow and some other seating around it.  

All three perspectives are true.  

I've gone back and forth on what to do with it for over a week now.  I have easily narrowed it down to the last two--I will NOT be throwing it out.  If you know me, you know I have a *little* bit of hoarding tendencies so this won't surprise you.

As much as I like the patina and kinda camo vibe it's giving off in this moment, I don't think that is the right look for our family right now.  I can envision it on the porch of the girls' house with a chippy farmhouse sign and bright bowl of flowers next to it--a fun spot to sit and watch the sunset while talking on the phone to friends back in Texas.

But here's the thing.  No matter what I do to it, the bones are good.  If I left it as is, it would eventually break down in the weather and become worthless.  It needs some TLC-which will also entail some steel wool and lots of scrubbing.  It might get a little uglier before it gets prettier, but once I get the top coat off and take it down to the metal, I have a new canvas.  

And this chair can literally become almost ANYTHING!

Kinda like you and me.  We can choose to let the effects of the weather (aka all the HARD stuff we've been dealt without our consent) continue to erode us and make us useless.  We can protect ourselves and not change.  Or, we can allow the scrubbing and scraping and become raw...so that we can be made new.  

The possibilities are endless.