I don't know what it looks like in Alaska right now, but I'm sure to find out next week. For now, Daniel and I found this priceless place over the weekend in the Fourth of July Canyon, right here in New Mexico. Nothing could have made the scenic view feel more Fall-ish except perhaps a misplaced pumpkin balanced on the fence post or something.
The death of a Maple leaf gives birth to a new season with a burst of pinkish-red color mixed with yellow stars that carpet the ground. There's something about an afternoon chill combined with fall foliage that creates aliveness and a sense of new beginnings.
We walked a short path and took a ton of pictures, stopped and talked to people and watched them set up camp for the night. Dogs barked, children played, campfires roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. Sections of sun speckled the ground but offered little warmth. It was a perfect day.
Without warning, the wind picked up so hard that it gusted up every square inch of stray leaf. They swirled in the air until the hail beat them back to the ground. Branches snapped, campfires sizzled and family's bundled in their vehicles for protection. Daniel and I drove away with the storm chasing us back to town.
When we got home, it was clearly evident that our yard had been ransacked by the same force that invaded the Fourth of July Canyon. A story I read many years ago was written by a woman from the pre-refrigeration era. Her husband had arrived home to the farm, fresh after a tonsillectomy. He started spitting up blood. After a couple of coughs, he was hemorrhaging. It was in the early Fall and she didn't have any ice to apply to the affected area. People from that era would preserve ice and snow from the Winter-time by packing it in cartons filled with sawdust. But it wouldn't keep a full year.All she had was prayer. She asked God to save her husband. Without warning, the wind picked up and large chunks of ice fell to the Earth. The wife gathered the ice and packed the hailstones around her husband's neck. The bleeding stopped.
When you have storms like that, they can take on an entire different meaning. They no longer rain on our parades, inconvenience us from doing something we wanted to do. They were put there on purpose and for a reason.
To everything there is a season,
a time for every purpose under the sun.
a time to be born and a time to die;
a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
a time to kill and a time to heal ...
a time to weep and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn and a time to dance ...
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to lose and a time to seek;
a time to rend and a time to sew;
a time to keep silent and a time to speak;
a time to love and a time to hate;
a time for war and a time for peace.
ecclesiastes 3:1-8
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