Not Right Away
Shedding, shedding
The leaves they all fall
With soft, feathery whispers
That springtime will call.
Not right away—
There’s a plan that we see
Year after year
In this ever strong tree.
Shedding, shedding
My hairs they each go.
His soft, feathery whispers,
“Don’t worry; they’ll grow.”
Not right away—
This plan you can’t see;
It’s not about you.
No, it’s most about Me.
Shedding, shedding
My pride like a coat,
With soft, feathery whispers
From deep in my throat,
“Not right away—
This plan hurts inside.
But I’m rooted in trust;
In you—I abide.”
Shedding, shedding
These tears like a spring
With soft, feathery whispers,
“But can you still sing?”
Not right away—
I can hum as I go,
Remembering the tune,
For I know what I know.
And when it’s all gone
To the very last end,
Humbly I’ll wait
For the springtime again—
When the flowers and oak trees
All stand as they should
And new growth declares
All this shedding was good.
—————————————————————
Today, in this cold weather season, I can see straight through what was once a robust green landscape in my backyard. I cannot help but deeply feel everything else shedding in this season as well.
Chemotherapy treatments cause my hair to fall out daily. It covers my shower, bathroom floor, and clothes—a constant reminder of this unexpected and unwelcome breast cancer diagnosis. How little control I have over my body, my future, my life. This was not part of my plan.
So I shed my pride. I grasp for truth. As a lifelong believer in Jesus Christ, I cling to the truth that God has a plan. I beg him to use this pain and suffering for good. God, let it not be wasted. Bring glory to you in this and expand your kingdom. Let the shedding be a symbol of your redemptive plan—a reminder that Christ himself suffered to save us.
Jesus shed his own blood to make a way. He rose again to save us. His suffering and resurrection resulted in a precious gift of grace for all who believe. Now there is hope of eternity spent with him in heaven.
But tears are still shed. This in-between is a far cry from easy. A good friend of mine once shared, “Feel what you feel, and know what you know.” Well, I feel sad today. I feel the grief and laments of the psalmist David. Suffering can feel like betrayal. But I know God’s mercies are new every day. I know he loves me and he is good. I feel this shedding to my core like my thinning backyard landscape. Nevertheless, I know my God is a good Father—the keeper of the best plans. I know there is more to this story I cannot see yet.
Not right away.
Such is motherhood at times. There is somewhat of a shedding that occurs once we become mothers. We shed parts of who we once were—our freedoms, our plans. The perception of control releases little by little as tiny, messy gifts take priority. Our selfish tendencies must take a back seat. Pride is shed, for we do not have all the answers. Tears are shed . . . for we do not have all the answers. And in all this, we learn to trust more. We slowly learn that the keeper of the best plans knows better for our children—and for us. We may not see it right away. It is hard to see in the mundane, day-to-day. Small acts of faithful obedience rarely have immediate results. Nevertheless, we trust in our good, loving Father. We feel what we feel and know what we know. He is good. He is faithful. His mercies are new every morning. This shedding—this imperfect motherhood journey—it bears such beautiful fruit. Not right away. We take small, faithful steps with hope for the day when all is as it should be. Just as spring replenishes the dark winter, we will get to see the blooms in God’s perfect timing. And on that day, the growth will be more beautiful than we ever imagined possible.
“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.” 2 Corinthians 4:16
