Thankful for new beginnings

Today was a hard day.

The sky was gray, the air was cold and wet with mist.  Bare fields spread, blackened, finished.  Done.

"They've been shorn of their corn, shorn of their corn, shorn of their corn," my mind chanted silently as miles passed.

It was a hard day but a good day.  The sun has set now, and the mist thickened into a real rain that dashes against the sides of my house.  Within my house, lights are on, and heat rises from the vents.  Within my heart, peace and joy rest quietly, soft peace, subtle joy.  For once, I am not striving to claim my promised peace and joy, not begging God to replenish them.  No, they are simply here, quiet and still.

I'm exhausted, but I have hope, hope that a tide has turned.

Usually I think of new beginnings in the springtime, when the days lengthen, the crocuses poke up, and Easter draws near.

Who would think of the miracle of a new beginning in the middle of November?

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest," says the Lord.

"Behold, I am making all things new," says the Lord.

Amen.  I am thankful.