The Birth of Autumn – Why I love Labor DayWritten on Sep 1, 2014
I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the Lord and put their trust in him. (Psalm 40:1-3 NIV) Labor Day holds a special place in my heart. It’s the beginning of Autumn. It’s the day that set me on my most monumental life journey 13 years ago when my husband told me he was leaving me for another girl and her unborn child. When I look at my life, there’s before and then there’s after Labor Day 2002 and there’s a huge scar in between. That date marked the beginning of pain and the beginning if healing. Gut wrenching pain. But pain that taught me that I’m tough. Or rather I’m extremely weak but when God pours into my life, I’m stronger than I’d ever imagined I could be. It took me from struggling to remember how to breath to running on a firm foundation. It centered me. Autumn was the birth of a new season. My utmost favorite one. Only God can create such a blaze of fiery color from leaves that took the summer’s hot sun beating. Cooler temperatures and refreshing rain showers calms the world and slows its steps. Autumn is a season of reflection and comfort. Of growth and harvest. That Labor Day I suddenly started over with nothing. And built a life. I became a new person who looked to God and found myself, my home, my direction and surprisingly the purpose that had been planted in my heart all along. Labor Day cut my heart in two. It’s a stab wound that will never go away. That I sometimes close my eyes and relive. No one should ever have to experience such excruciating, gut wrenching pain. The type of pain that rushes over you in waves and wakes you up at night. That boils in your chest and changes the way you’ll forever view the world. But that gash is no longer there. Where the knife ripped the skin, a scar formed. A scar I can feel and remember. The scar is tough. It’s stronger than the previously broken skin. It’s now a badge of honor for the journey I’ve come. A reminder that out of tragedy a more beautiful person survives. Labor Day is the day I called my Dad and told him I’d been hurt. I needed to come home and I needed him to come get me. The birth of Autumn in more ways than one. Dedicated to my daughter, Autumn who was born 9 years after Labor Day.