November

A year later, November is just as I left her. She has waited patiently through cold, and rain, and heat, for the gentle decay of the calendar until she could arrive once again. She came with familiar question, "Is this who you want to be?" And she came with hard decisions. This year when she came, I was in a different place, but it was the same place. November drove me to my knees once again, in thanksgiving and grief and relief. Yet on this hard ground I feel November's heart beating, as if to remind me that with her brokenness comes her grace. November has been my test, my gift, my salvation. Though she comes in cold and barren and with signs of death, she leaves a warmth and hope that keep my soul from abandon. Oh November, you are just as I left you, but I am not as you left me. I'm finding it in myself.