On Gratitude, Changing Seasons, and Learning to Rest.

There is something about fall that speaks to my soul.

Maybe it’s the softer light, the cooler mornings, or the way the land slowly begins to settle after a long, hot Texas summer. The trees begin letting go of their leaves, the grasses turn golden, and nature quietly reminds us that there is a season for everything.

Even rest.

I’ve been thinking a lot about gratitude lately. After a wonderful weekend surrounded by artists, friends, and people who appreciate my work, my heart is especially full.

The kind words, the conversations, the encouragement, and the people who chose to take a little piece of my art home with them mean more than I can ever express.

But it wasn’t just the appreciation of my art that touched me.

Someone told me that I had a good heart. Such a simple thing to say, yet it nearly brought me to tears. I don’t always see myself that way. I know my shortcomings. I know the days I struggle to be patient, gracious, or the person God calls me to be.

I’m still learning. Still growing. Still being shaped.

And perhaps that’s what The Art of Becoming is really about.

For so much of our lives, we are busy doing. Building, working, raising families, chasing dreams, and trying to keep up with all that life asks of us. We measure our days by what we’ve accomplished and sometimes forget that simply living, loving, and being present are accomplishments of their own.

Working with clay has taught me a great deal about this.

Clay doesn’t always become what I originally imagined. Sometimes it bends, cracks, or takes an unexpected direction. But often, those imperfections become the very things that give a piece its character.

 

I suppose life isn’t much different.

As I grow older, I’m learning that I don’t have to have everything figured out. I don’t have to fill every moment with something productive. And I certainly don’t have to be perfect.

I’m beginning to appreciate the beauty of simply becoming.

Fall seems to understand this better than we do.

The trees don’t fight to hold on to their leaves. The land doesn’t apologize for growing quiet. Nature knows that rest is not the end of growth. It’s part of it.

And maybe I need to remember that, too.

After a busy season of creating, preparing, and sharing my art, I’m looking forward to the quieter days ahead. Time in my studio without a deadline. Slow mornings watching the horses graze. A warm greenhouse filled with plants, a cup of tea, and a little time to just be.

Not every season has to be about producing something. Some seasons are meant for restoring what has been poured out.

 

Above all, I’m grateful. Grateful for the people who have crossed my path, for the opportunities I never expected, for the gift of creating with my hands, and for this life that continues to surprise me.

I’m grateful, too, that God isn’t finished with me yet. There are still lessons to learn, rough edges to soften, and beautiful things I haven’t discovered.

As the leaves begin to fall and the earth prepares for its season of rest, I think I’ll follow its lead a little more closely this year. I’ll slow down. I’ll give thanks. I’ll make room for quiet.

And I’ll trust that even in the stillness, something beautiful is happening. Maybe the art of becoming isn’t about turning into someone new. Maybe it’s about finally becoming who we were always meant to be.

And perhaps, for now, that’s enough.

Until next time, be kind to each other.

xoxo

Cindy