In Two Seasons

It feels hidden and holy, this part of the path I am walking slowly through. My soul feels at the beginning of winter while spring dawns around me. With each spiritual step I catch the fragrance of the last autumn leaf being gently crushed under foot. But, my eyes gaze on the red buds of spring when I look up from my prayerful pace.

Have you ever walked in a spiritual season that opposes the physical season of the earth?

Birds are chirping and I know my literal lungs are taking in the fresh spring air but the very core of myself is prepared for the work of winter. Much of what had flourished in my life has faded and fallen, returned to the soil of my heart’s garden as fertilizer for what will come next.

The fertilizer must be taken in by the soil and the hidden work of decomposing foliage transforming into nourishment for what will grow into summer blooms must be done. It is part of the cycle.

I sang a song out to the Lord over rusty guitar strings and unfolded laundry in early January. My voice feebly cried, “Call me home. Precious Lord, forever more, call me home.” The melody drifted over and over from my heart and I did not truly know what I meant.

Did I want to go home to Tennessee? The answer was: no. Did I want to go home to Heaven? The answer is: always. But what did I actually mean as I sang this odd petition?

I sang it to a sweet friend and she said it was “heavy duty”, sensing the deep groans of a sinking vessel under the weight of crashing waves. We could not put a meaning to it, though. Finally, it made sense to me Sunday.

The Lord changed my heart in January and helped me desire to move back home to Nashville. On my first weekend in town, I picked up some furniture from online yard sales. I had an afternoon scheduled to drive from place to place to furnish a home we have since purchased.

The first pickup was in the first neighborhood I ever remember living in. It warmed my heart to be back in a part of town that always felt familiar and welcoming as my first memory of home. I hopped on Old Hickory Blvd then and drove over to the next pickup. I grinned and shuddered respectively at each landmark of memories I passed along the way. Many firsts happened for me on these roadways and I was inadvertently taking a tour of my life in Nashville on this sunny, yard sale pickup afternoon.

Lord, You sure have a sense of humor turning my busy afternoon errands into such a precious time of reflection, I prayed as I crossed over the interstate.

I hit Nipper’s Corner and drove up the hill to stare at the big Methodist Church where the Holy Spirit shook me awake during a high school choir performance. And then I laughed out loud when my GPS told me to turn left.

Are you kidding me! No way, Lord! What is going on?!

Two left turns later and I sat in front of the first condo I called home when my step-mom became my best-friend for 10 years. I could not have knowingly navigated myself to that space if I had tried, having lived there before I was responsible for driving myself anywhere. I laughed and wondered where the next, final pickup location could take me. I plugged in the address and drove on.

The sun was setting and I was traveling up a long, winding driveway in the heart of Forrest Hills. It was a road I had driven by thousands of times but had never turned down. I breathed a little sigh of relief and laughed. But my laughter turned to awe as I pulled up to a near cliff with a skyline view of the city that raised me. I had a 180-degree view of my favorite parts of Nashville at sunset.

A tear came to my eye and I realized I did not just move home to Nashville. I was being called here. Not for some extravagant job or well-positioned ministry move. Just a calling to come home and be present with eyes open in every space the Lord would take me.

That was about two months ago. I’ve kept my eyes open and had so many God moments of Him mercifully showing me how he has answered my prayers over the years, unbeknownst to me. He has reconnected me with people I love and placed us right where we should be. I have even been blessed to make new friends and see glimpses of what He has in store in different areas of our lives ahead.

And, Sunday, the circle of this calling home was closed. I walked into church doors that I used to hold open to greet newcomers. I sat eight rows back from where I once sat every time the church was open. I heard the kind of sermon I prayed would fill that space for years in a row. The building’s bones were the same but this was a totally different church.

I could almost see that 17-year-old girl with her annotated bible full of ah-ha moments and hunger for intimacy with God. And I cried because she didn’t imagine this future. She never asked for some of the testimony that fills her journal.

But, her prayers were answered. She asked to know God better, deeper, and for who He really is. Oh, how He has answered that prayer in mercy and goodness. She prayed that the people that entered that room would be comforted. She was praying for herself, for me. I was comforted, Sunday.

That young woman’s flourishing blooms now feed the compost as winter comes for her soul. This will be a fruitful winter, with hearty greens and nourishing root vegetables. But, it will be winter nonetheless.

My tour of Nashville with a strongly felt assurance that I have been called home on purpose was just the tilling to prepare the garden. I am already so nourished by the reminders that God has transformed my life more times than I can truly count. He has made new wine out of me time and time again. He is still faithful and He will still be, even in a hidden, holy winter in spring.

In the Love of Christ,

Hannah