Of course, it would snow. . .

Not a soft, pretty snow with flakes gently descending from the heavens.
No, it was during a winter snowstorm that we moved from our home of 22 years out in the country into a smaller house in town. Fortunately, the bulk of our possessions had been moved five days earlier with the help of family and friends. But now, as the snow quickly accumulated on the ground, we frantically packed the last of the boxes into the U-Haul. The trip down our steep, icy driveway would be stressfully packed with prayers, as well, that we make it down safely. This is not how I wanted to say goodbye to this lovely place, to my home where we raised our kids, to the gardens that I planted where I know each plant by name . . .

That morning’s winter storm reflected the chaos going on inside me, overwhelming sadness mixed with a touch of excitement of the unknown that lay ahead, the stress that comes with moving, the late nights of packing, lying awake in early morning hours with endless lists running through my head, and trying to keep it all together with a trust that God will make it all work out – it was an avalanche of emotion that I’ve never experienced before.

After a harrowing 30-minute trip on snow-covered roads to where we would close on the house, I was able to catch my breath. We sat in the office waiting our turn, and I got a text from our daughter who had been at the house with our son packing the U-Haul. It was a video she had taken of the snowscape that surrounded the woods on the property. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Tears welled up yet again – how I will miss those trees – watching them change through the seasons. They were the first thing I saw every morning when I opened my eyes to gaze out uncurtained windows. Fresh spring leaves unfurling, summer green canopies, glorious autumn hues, and graceful bare branches outlined in snow like right now. And I had missed it this morning – blindly consumed with the details of moving. 

It was then that it struck me - even amidst all the chaos going on around and inside of me, there is something beautiful happening that God is orchestrating. It’s his perfect plan for me – I take a deep breath in. His love and presence is constant - I exhale slowly.  It was he who led us here to this place years ago – inhale deeply, and filled it with love, joy, tears – all of them blessings. Exhale. He goes before me once again, leading me – inhale. And I follow, knowing that he will make this move something beautiful, too. Slow exhale.

It’s been almost a week now, and already that emotional day is but a memory. The lessons I’m learning of trusting God, letting go, embracing change, and seeing beauty where you least expect it, those will stay with me as this new chapter unfolds. I miss waking up to the wooded view out my window, but I’m so grateful that I was given that gift for a while. The trees have taught me to carry something with me through every season of life – and that’s joy. There’s a passage in the Bible that says, “You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.” – Isaiah 55:12

God is writing a symphony. All of this – the struggles, the joy, the tears, the laughter, He’s weaving it all together into a beautiful symphony that I’m blessed to call my life. And right now, in the beginning of this new movement, I’m being led forth in peace and, like the trees, I will joyfully clap my hands. 

The last of the leaves linger on the trees. The great horned owl coos from the woods nearby, and I hear the train's horn in the distance. The sun rises and fills the sky with lovely colors. I want to capture all these moments along with all the other memories from this special place that I've called home for so long, pack them up, and take them with me. The next few weeks will be the final ones in this house on the hill, and time seems to be flying by way too quickly. To slow it down, I want to savor each moment, and fill the hours more meaningfully.
 
Yes, we've sold our house, and have found a place to land - so grateful for that. As I walk our property, watching each tree and shrub that I've planted release their leaves yet again as part of their annual rhythm, I'm overwhelmed with how connected I've become to this place, this land, these gardens. Such a blessing this has been - growing a family, growing gardens, and growing myself. Gratitude fills my heart, and helps me brave up to see this move as a new adventure with new opportunities and new gardens to grow . . . 

Can you keep a secret? I'm digging up some of these plants and taking them with me. I don't know why, but I feel this is a covert operation. And time is short, so every spare moment of daylight, I'm out there with shovel in hand, hunting for those I can't leave behind. Hellebores, Hostas, Epimediums, peonies . . .  As I dig, I'm careful not to disturb the roots too drastically. It will be awhile before they get tucked into their new home, forming new roots, and growing in new gardens. Kind of like me. 

I'll be honest - I feel like my roots are being ripped out of the earth, but I know God is gently digging so this move will be a positive one. And like my plants, it will take awhile for me to put down new roots and feel at home. But once settled in, it will all be ok. It will all be ok. I need to play that on repeat. Plants, memories, trust, hope, optimism, and gratitude . . . taking them all with me to fill my new home. It's that last one - gratitude, that I'm practicing daily as I pack. Slowing down to recognize the gifts that grace the path of each day, naming each one, and giving thanks for it. It's in this practice that I find peace and contentment - no matter what the circumstance. It's calming. And then it dawns on me - being rooted in him and in his love is what really matters. 

"Blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him. 
They will be like a tree planted by water that sends out its roots by the stream. 
It does not fear when heat comes; it's leaves are always green." - Jeremiah 17:7-8

I've always loved that passage. Roots have gone down deep here, that's why it hurts so much to leave. But those spiritual roots keep things in perspective and in the end are the most important ones. I'll share one last thing before I sign off - a song. It's one that I find bits of running through my mind lately - one that I find comforting. I hope it will give you comfort as well when you need it. You can listen to it here. 

"Morning by morning, I wake up to find the power and comfort of God's hand in mine
Season by season, I watch Him, amazed In awe of the mystery of His perfect ways
All I have need of, His hand will provide He's always been faithful to me.

I can't remember a trial or a pain He did not recycle to bring me gain
I can't remember one single regret In serving God only and trusting His hand
All I have need of, His hand will provide He's always been faithful to me.

This is my anthem, this is my song, the theme of the stories I've heard for so long
God has been faithful, He will be again His loving compassion, it knows no end
All I have need of, His hand will provide He's always been faithful to me.
                                                            - Sara Groves​

Some things are so beautiful, I can’t help but stop and admire.

Usually it’s nature that catches my eye and steals the breath with it's stunning  beauty. Driving past this wrought iron gate had the same affect – caught the eye, pulled off the road, had to get closer to take it all in. Graceful curves, white aged to yellow, chipped and rusted, but to me it was beautiful. What struck me most was the contrast – strong iron shaped into gentle curves. How many years had it stood here? How many storms had it endured? Strong yet so graceful. How hot was the fire that softened hard iron to form beautiful swooshes and swirls?

I see the same beauty in someone close who battled the ugliness of cancer with such grace. Keeping her eyes focused on the ultimate Grace-giver was reflected in her response to  what life had handed her. Through the firestorm, her strong faith unwavering was beautiful. Grace under pressure.

Long seasons of testing and trials are made up of small moments that define us. Like fire, they can refine making us stronger or they can consume and weaken us. I think of this as I stand on what seems a mountain of whys and unanswered questions. Trying to be strong as I move forward through the day, my breath a constant prayer, at times I feel I could crumble under the sheer weight of it all. 

'. . . we are weak, but He is strong'. Those songs learned at a young age can be such a comfort! Yes, Jesus does love me. He is strong. And it's in that strength, HIS strength, that I can  draw strength and find peace; it's in His grace that I see blessings that are still here, amidst all the uncertainty. And I know that all of this is grace.  

Maybe you're not in a season like that. The truth is that we all face small everyday fires that can define and refine us. The question is, how do we respond when in the midst of those everyday fires . . . 
    to the heated moments of a stressful day?
    to gossip that surrounds, or pain that hounds?
    to words that sting and tempers that flare?

It’s in our nature to react to these pressures of fire with more fire: to be unkind when treated unkindly, to give anger when shown anger, to lash out when lashed at, to break under pressure. But what if we respond with what’s unexpected - kindness. What if we respond with what is undeserved  - grace. What if we see our situation as an opportunity? 

Each small moment fire can be an opportunity to reflect the undeserved love - unmerited favor -  the grace God has shown us. When we react to moments of pressure or a season of trials with a posture of grace, our unexpected response and our attitude could stop fire’s fury, catch the eye, and be something beautiful. Just like that wrought iron gate. Grace under pressure.  

May God use whatever fire is in our moments to make us stronger and be a reflection of his grace. ‘Be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus’.  2 Timothy 2:1

The sun sets quickly as I bundle up and head outside. Tonight will be our first hard frost and I have zinnias to gather. Snip. Snip. They were beautiful this year, lasting well into November. I think of all the butterflies that lingered on each blossom gathering sweet nectar. Snip. Snip. I've been watching with fascination how cut-flower farmers like Erin Benzakien @ Floret Flowers and Tiffany Jones @ Blomma Flower Farm gather seed to breed new varieties of zinnias. It has inspired me to save seed for the simple act of planting them again next year. Snip. Snip. 

As I gather armfuls of zinnias, I consider how November is a month for gathering. We gather the harvest of pumpkins, squash, and any cole crops that remain in the garden. We gather warm coats, hats, and gloves for the impending cold. We gather firewood for the fireplace, and then we gather around it's warmth. But most of all, in November, we gather with family and friends to celebrate Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving. A day set aside to pause and reflect on the abundance of blessings we have. If you've been following me here on the Naturally Bella Journal, you are well familiar with how I feel about recognizing small blessings found in every day living. They are present in every day - good or bad. In every situation, in every moment, there is something to be grateful for. Opening our eyes to the small, seemingly insignificant blessings is powerful! It can lift us out of depression, fight off anxiety, and leads to contentment and joy.  Each blessing is a gift. As a believer, I know that each gift comes from above. Each gift is a reminder of how much we are loved by our heavenly Father.

If we are honest with ourselves, our blessings overflow into abundance.  Don't you love that word? Abundance. It means having an excess of something. Abundance feels like being rich, even without money. Standing out in the garden holding armfuls of zinnias made me feel like a wealthy woman. Recognizing this abundance of blessings can overwhelm us and touch the heart. It can move us to tears and even to our knees as we are lavishly showered with this undeserved love and grace. Have you ever experienced this?

There is a time to gather all those blessings, to recognize and name them, and to give thanks for them. But it doesn't stop there. Living a thank-filled life isn't only about the gathering. "Thankfulness is the beginning of gratitude. Gratitude is the completion of thankfulness. Thankfulness may consist merely of words. Gratitude is shown in acts,"  - David O McKay. 

Yes! Thankfulness leads to gratitude. Humbled by our abundance and compelled by His love, we show our gratitude by giving to others. Perhaps this is why Thanksgiving (the season of thanking) is followed by Christmas (the season of giving). 

Through the act of thankful giving, we also experience abundance! This is the lesson of abundance. The more we give of ourselves, the more we are filled with intangibles like peace and joy.  So this begs the question: how can I live an abundant life today? It is not in the gathering, it is in the scattering. It is in the giving as much as we can, that we receive more than we ever imagine. 

​I think about this as I'm sorting through zinnia seed heads. Scattering carries an element of randomness. We scatter seed letting it fall where it may. Out of this abundance of flowers that filled my small bit of earth, I'm thankfully gathering to gratefully scatter next spring. But I need to do more. I am compelled to do more. What if I give them away, so others can also experience their beauty and the joy they offer? 

Let's begin with daily intentional giving, and scatter without limits. 
​This is how to live a truly abundant life.

Happy Thanks-giving, 

​A PRACTICE: 
1. List three things you are grateful for right now. 
2. How do you define an abundant life?
3. Who do you know that has a need?
4. How can you become a gift to that person?