As I move through the seasons of myself, I realize my life has been like the seasons of the year, ever changing, ever different. In the early Spring, I was born a tender, fragile flower, protected by my mother’s loving arms until I was strong enough to stand on my own. As I teetered and tottered, she stood ever-vigilant, ready to pull me up if Life’s Lessons knocked me to the ground. Under her tender tutelage, it wasn’t long before I grew and hitched a ride on a passing zephyr into the great unknown. I still had the springtime dew on my tender stems as I awkwardly budded and blossomed apprehensively into self-conscious adulthood.

In the Summer of my Life, I seeded and gave life to two beautiful flowers B my daughters. As they followed my growth path, I realized that I, too, had not yet stopped growing. I just didn’t do it as quickly as I once did. I grew with finite slowness, my life giving way to the more youthful flowers that I bore. I wilted drastically several times, oftentimes losing my zest during the hard, lean years. I felt I had outlived my own youth, my vitality, my purpose, despite the fact that my offspring flourished well under my nurturing and loving care. I felt strangely abandoned when they sprouted up, strong and old enough to leave the garden to make a life for themselves. Having been solely focused on their growth for so long, I didn’t know if I was capable of tending my own Life’s garden, anymore. It had been such a long time since I had even weeded it. But, since nothing is really hard if you divide it into small jobs, I rolled up my sleeves and each day did a little more weeding as I recalled what Charles Dickens once wrote, Nature gives to every Time and Season some beauties of its own. With renewed energy and determination, I began to replant.

Now, as I move into the Autumn of my Life, I am more acceptable to the changing of the seasons. I may not be that young, tender flower of my youth but I’m still healthy and full of life and vitality. Only now, I am also mature and wise, with strong roots, sturdy leaves, and proud petals. I have felt the cold March Winds blow, but my roots dug in deep and have held strong. I have been beaten and battered down by the summer storms, but I have always managed to rise up, fighting to maintain my own space in the Garden of Life. I have fought back against the pelting rain, becoming stronger, radiating confidence, stability and self-assurance.

No. Just because I am no longer that delicate flower of the Springtime, with the help of the God of Second Chances and New Beginnings, I am far from having outlived my usefulness. Though the colors of the leaves have changed, I still have a rich, plentiful garden within myself to share with others, even if it’s now only a pumpkin patch.