As first time homeowners in Atlanta many years ago, Henry and I pulled up a dead bush that looked like a bundle of kindling from a front flowerbed, and threw it on a pile of dirt in the side yard. Summer came, and we noticed it had burst out with lovely pink torrents of flowers; we had pulled up a dormant crepe myrtle! Despite our lack of care and proper treatment, it had somehow survived to show its true colors, in its season. How glad I am that, in the dormant periods of my life, when I may look as dead as a bundle of sticks, God doesn't toss me on the trash heap. In season, I believe, we can all begin to show signs of life again. If you see someone who seems dead to you, no signs of life, no visible growth, don't count them out; don't write them out of your life. Only wait, and love; in her time, in his season, there may be torrents of bloom there once again. And friend, if you are experiencing a great dryness, a great alone-ness, an other-ness, a deadness of soul...wait. Just wait. Though dormant for a season, there will be a living time for you. Wait for beauty's revealing in you, friend. Wait with expectation.
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