Next month, life will invariably be forever changed. Obviously, parenthood comes to the forefront, as we become charged to bring up a child in Christ.

Additionally though, life at the farm will be over at the end of the summer. A full year will have come and gone, leaving Faith, the boy, and me somewhat homeless. Life of early mornings milking goats and feeding chickens, afternoons spent laboring under the hot Texas sun in our pecan orchard, and noonmeals with the community here will be finished.

We're eager for change, no doubt about it. For the change that comes this autumn will bring daddy-hood and life in Kazakhstan one step closer to reality. But in the process, it ends a sweet life that we've grown to love.

The writer of Ecclesiastes, and more recently, the Byrds, acknowledge that there are times, or seasons, for everything. Life. Death. Laughter. Weeping.

Though we usually quote such words during moments of despair or bittersweetness, I've think that maybe I've grown to embrace such seasons. For what I've learned of the natural world, seasons don't just reciprocally come and go, but they're necessary for life. Period. Through dormancy or perceived death, life is actually preparing to burst forth. And it can't come forth without the "down" time...the time of rest...the time of apparent lifelessness.

So as I look to make the most of these last weeks at the farm and these last weeks of selfishness before Boy Dowdy arrives, I prepare to let go of the life I've grown accustomed to here, while in the same motion, embracing the life that awaits.