each season brings its own memories, and along with them, particular feelings. when the cold air ambushes our sheltered campus, my Midwestern lungs gladly welcome it. i never though i'd miss the snowfall, but i find myself missing the beauty of it, the certainty of the plans i'd make with friends to enjoy it, enjoying the way it was at the same time sheltering and transporting.

i miss the snow, but this is a new season: a season of revelation. the disguise of prettiness is melting off, showing what's been hidden underneath, soggy and blotchy and unkempt but somehow... somehow God says it's rescuable.

but to be rescued, i can't sit around waiting for it to just magically happen. i've got to get up and start seeking it out. i must put in my part and desire to be rescued, even if the process of being rescued hurts.