Put Your Toe in the Water

First Frost

I’ve waited for it almost twenty years. The crisp fall air begins to sneak in. Soon the grass slows down and doesn’t need mowing. And then the weather report says we will have the first frost of the season.

And every year thus far I’ve been disappointed.

My husband has worked outside as long as we’ve known each other. Heavy equipment, chainsaws, and sawmill work are part of his chosen profession. North Florida gets hot in February and stays hot until November. Sometimes we’ll get that “fake spring” or “fake fall” breeze that lasts for a few days, but then the temperature gauge shoots right back through the roof.

As we get teased more and more by mornings in the 50s, my husband is excited. Most summer days, he changes shirts a half dozen times due to pure ole, stinky sweat. The lower that thermometer goes, the happier my husband becomes.

But every year, I get up on the morning of that first frost and I stare at him. “So, I’m waiting,” I tell him.

“Waiting on what?” he replies.

“On you to fulfill that threat you’ve made for the last two decades.”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“Every year, you tell me that you’re gonna be so happy for the first frost that when it comes, you’re gonna go outside in your underwear and roll around on the cold ground like a puppy and enjoy the first truly cold day of the year.”

And every year, he backs out on his claim.

I can’t imagine why.

Expectations of the Seasons

Thinking of my husband rolling around in the frost always makes me smile, and one day, I hope he follows through on this silly expectation. But as I consider this expectation every fall, my brain drifts to other expectations of this season—season in life that is.

I turned forty this year. I have two boys, seven and eleven, who keep me hopping between school, taekwondo, and church activities. My husband is shifting from a place of self-employment to managing property for someone else. His parents’ health isn’t the best. My parents are working on settling the estate of my dad’s parents who both passed and my mom’s mother is in a nursing home in poor health. We are building our own home—stump to wall—and it’s exhausting. All of this on the heels of me letting my teaching job at the college go, transitioning into part ministry on church staff, and chasing this writing dream. Oh, and don’t forget my husband’s year of cancer treatments in 2020 and all the follow-up health struggles we’ve had as a result (David is cancer free, currently).

This was not how I anticipated this season. Not. At. All.

Not What We Expected

But, this is our current place in life and there are so many pieces that are completely out of my control. Weeks like this one, with hospital visits, surgery, and changes to our routine, are a bit difficult. Emotions cloud our vision and override healthy sleep routines. Tired sneaks into our words and edginess falls from our lips on unassuming victims, mostly our children and family.

I’m grateful for a loving God, filled with grace when these tough moments and exhausting seasons become reality. Unexpected illnesses. Job change or loss. Divorce. Loss of loved ones. Unruly children. Rebellious adult children. Devastation of homes. Loss of retirement or savings. Lawsuits. Mental illness. Domestic violence. Alcohol or drug abuse. This list could go on and on, but the reality of all these situations is that God already knew they were coming.

He knew. He knows. And he’s already walked there.

Jesus said in John 16:33 (NIV), “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

He never promised our lives would be easy. In fact, he said just the opposite, “In this world you will have trouble.” Even though I expected my life to be different, I recognize that hardship is a part of breathing air and being a human being. Hardship will come. But it’s up to us how we navigate through the rough parts.

Learning the Hard Way

These seasons provide lessons if we choose to be teachable. The loss of my grandparents has made me look at my own life and the kind of legacy I’m leaving for my children and future grandchildren. Looking through countless boxes of their stuff encouraged me to downsize my mess before moving into the new house once it’s finished.

Watching family members who have health struggles is teaching me to be proactive with medical issues and not put big appointments off for a later time. I want to be around a long while and get to meet my grandkids and great grands, too.

Building this house, acting as our own contractors, has been an incredible character-building exercise. While I feel like my character is caught up in that department, God knew I still needed some whittling away in that pride area.

Every stressful piece has a teachable nugget tucked away if we choose to seek it out.

Rocks in the Road

Joshua 4:6-7 (NIV) “In the future, when your children ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’ tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever.”

Throughout the Old Testament, the Israelites were famous for leaving stones or altars built of stones as a reminder to future generations of the great work God displayed at that particular physical location. In the story that accompanies the above verses, the Israelites were instructed to cross the Jordan River, but there was no way they could make it to the other side safely because the waters were too deep. Their faith had to come into play in order to obey God’s instruction.

The fear of stepping foot in the Jordan River, carrying the Ark of the Covenant must have been intense. Deep waters. Flowing. Yet God instructed them to step into the waters. And as they trusted. As they put their faith into action, the waters parted. The way was clear.

But the journey remained difficult. And there were many obstacles along the way. Each time, God showed the Israelites he was with them. He would be their guide. All they needed to do was trust.

And then God told them to look to the stones as a remembrance. A memorial to what he had done in that situation.

Whatever season we may find ourselves in at the moment, consider this time as a spiritual rock in the road. A time when we may have no idea how the waters will part, but because God says step, we choose to trust. These rocks will one day be in the past and we will view them from a victorious vantage point.

Then we will recall our season of expectation. And the goodness of God will cover that memory as we see his victorious, broad hand that carried us through the deep waters.

As we go about our way, dipping our toes into the edge of the unknown waters, hoping God will prove faithful and part the seas, let’s remember the rocks. Perched on the bank of fear and expectation, a memorial of what faith in our great God can and will do. There are nuggets of knowledge, should we choose to grab hold.

It’s really up to us.

Will we choose to see God in the hardship? In the stress?

Will we choose to lean on him? Trust him?

Will we choose to glean and learn? Will we be able to go back to the rocks in the road and be reminded of his faithfulness?

The jury’s still out on whether or not I’ll get to see my husband roll around in his drawers during the first frost. But the jury is firm on the fact that God is with us through the hard times. We need only trust him.

Put your toe in a little deeper. The water is perfect.

 

© Copyright Christy Bass Adams October 2022, All photos from Canva