Therefore, behold, I will allure her, bring her into the wilderness and speak kindly to her. Hosea 2:14
Just now, I put groceries away, served my children lunch, unloaded the dishwasher, fried bacon, milled flour. Yesterday at this time, I did this:
We launch out early, coffee hot and expectations soaring, wheels rolling forward under the shadow of the Colorado Rockies in search of joy entwined with harvest. We spend the day gathering what has ripened under burning skies, where seeking roots have gorged on intentional moisture, where farmers foresaw the promise of growth and nursed it into being. Colorado is high desert, where both beauty and growth is rocky, pocked with dry crags. Green shoots of spring and rich abundance of autumn are hard-fought here. These farmers open their gates to us, who are reaping what we have not sown.
Grace is the only air that isn’t toxic. Ann Voskamp.
I breathe it in, grace-air, in the company of those who have wrapped me in it over the long drought of my hardest years. We spend the day harvesting more than pumpkins and berries – laughter, friendship, memories, joy, tradition. It is a day of passing over. The burning beauty of summer abates into a fruition, a gathering, a harvest of grace.
For those who are bone dry from the glare and heat of summer, take heart. The jeweled ripening of harvest is awakening. Let us not lose heart in doing good, for in due time we will reap if we do not grow weary. Gal.6:9.
I will sow her for Myself in the land. I will also have compassion on her who had not obtained compassion, and I will say to those who were not My people, ‘You are My people!’