It’s been almost a decade in this place where the crepe myrtles bloom long and heavy in the summer days that are long and heavy, too.
And still it shocks me to see them on the opposite side of the calendar.
What once was lush, fresh, and full of color stands more than just barren, but limbless.
It seems harsh. A long road to rebuild what it already once possessed. To regain the bloom already held tenderly. It must be such an ache. To start again.
But the new growth comes.
Awkward at first. Tentative. Askew. Fragile.
Not at all beautiful. Not yet.
But alive despite the look of it.
Then stronger bit by bit.
Until the bloom returns to the heat again.
Linking this reflection of Small Wonder with my friend and fellow blogger, Kelly Chripczuk, who has recently launched a Community of blogging Beauty Hunters at her site. So grateful for the reminder that our Big God shows himself in the most amazing small ways. And also linking with #threewordwednesday at Kristin’s place.