We read there is a season for everything
And we read more, pray more,
To try to understand

If we need to wait, to be patient,
Or pray for the strength to let go,
To finally, and fully, move on,

For healing to kick in, to
Settle the dust, sweep away the cobwebs.
Seal every crack on the surface,
And underneath.

Or is it time to go ahead?
Dropping new seeds into damp soil,
Covering them, sheltering them,
Until enough rain, sun, and nurturing
Allows the first shoot to sprout.

But, what if, instead of planting,
It’s time to pluck? To rip the
familiar and comfortable from their roots.
Tearing leaves and tossing them to the wind.
Letting them flutter and float away,
Before swirling and snapping across the ground.

Will the questions ever have answers?
Will the times, the seasons, ever make sense?

In His timing, in His timing…