Seasons of Life

by John C. Westervelt

     On a fall morning, the raspberry colored leaves on the dogwood outside my kitchen window are motionless under a hanging fog.  This begins a new season in the life of the dogwood.

     Some years, the leaves quickly turn brown and are swept away by the first wind.  Other years, the leaves hold themselves in an array of color for several weeks.  I always hope for the latter.

     The green leaves turning red let me know it’s time to plant pansies.  The impatiens in the front flowerbed and the periwinkles filling a square on the back patio gave me and those passing by pleasure all summer, but they will wilt and die with the first freeze. 

     I know from last year and the years before that even though the dogwood looks lifeless through the winter, it will begin a new season in the spring after its winter rest.  The rebirth is celebrated with white blossoms tipped with a mysterious bruise.  Legend holds that the deep purple bruise shows the pain God felt when His Son was on the cross.

     Spring for the dogwood is like my youth when growth was bountiful and somewhat rambunctious.  By summer the tree is basking in warm sunshine storing nutrients for her fall season.  The middle years for me were filled with growing children, time at work and church, and storing up God’s treasures of friendships and assets to carry me through the winter.

     After the dogwood is dormant all winter, it will begin a new life right where it is.  For me, the new life following winter will be in heaven.  I wish I knew more about what the seasons there hold in store for me.  I am thankful for the earthly seasons that have prepared the way for my time there.

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