As winter approaches, I realize the beauty of times when God strips down life to see what’s really in the heart. You see the shape of you. You see what’s really happening underneath the cover of brighter, greener days. I don’t mind suffering as much anymore; it teaches me where I stand.
I stand by the plum tree, and I can finally see the work of my pruning. When the leaves fall, I see which branches I like, which ones need more work, and which ones create the shape I want.
I want times like this. It takes a certain season to see clearly: perhaps loss, perhaps some emptiness, perhaps some exposure to harsh elements. And then, spring.