“Everything is so green!” I exclaim as the wind whips through my hair and the pontoon boat skims across the water. The scenery is so vibrant, it looks like something out of a cartoon.

“Yeah, it’s wild how different everything looks when we’re not in a drought,” my friend replies.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” I pause, letting her words settle in.

I remember the dry, brown days last summer, and the summer before, and pretty much every summer since we moved to this area. We’ve had several years of droughts, and even when we weren’t officially in a drought season, the landscape was always a faded green at best.

This year, though, the creek near our home is the fullest I’ve ever seen it. The grass field next to our neighborhood appears neon green. Full branches of leaves completely shade our favorite trail.

I didn’t notice how dull everything seemed in summer during past years. It was all I had known. I’d grown used to the muted tones. I didn’t know the hills surrounding our house could look brighter, the creek could cool off our legs, and the tree in our backyard could stretch its limbs the full width of our yard.

Ever since my friend pointed out the novelty of our green summer, I can’t stop taking pictures of it. Whether I’m hiking a trail, boating on a lake, or just driving down the road, I’m amazed by each surprising new shade of green.

I released my first book this year. I find it odd that the verb for publishing a book is “release.” When not in a publishing context, release means to let go or to set free. After years of living the truths I wrote about—and more years spent writing, editing, and praying over them—it felt surreal to finally set them free in the world. To let go of the pen and watch people pick up my book. It was my personal project for so long, and now it’s owned by my readers.

This book was formed during postpartum depression, difficult medical diagnoses, a miscarriage, marital struggles, a global pandemic, a long adoption process, and so many other trials. I kept learning, kept praying, and kept writing.

Looking back now, I didn’t realize how dry those years were. We were pursuing the Lord, but we didn’t appear fruitful as we spent all our energy navigating changes and challenges.

And now, without even noticing the shift, I find myself in a different kind of season.

After many years of what felt like a drought, God has brought us a luscious and plentiful year. He fulfilled the call he gave me to write the book. My husband and I are finally seeing the fruit of our ministry together. We successfully completed our first year of homeschool. In so many areas, we’re witnessing a harvest from seed sown during those dry seasons.

This abundant season appears just as surreal as my emerald lawn. I’m in awe of what health and growth God can bring after several hard years.

If I’m honest, though, I’m tempted to worry about what’s next. After a season of fruitfulness, I’m nervous about when the next drought will come in our family’s life. I’m anxious about our next season. Will the next phone call upend our family? Will I write another book? Will God call us to move? Will someone I love receive another bad diagnosis?

Unfortunately, these questions pull me out of the moment—out of the current bright season the Lord has blessed us with.

However, when I study the various shapes and shades of green leaves on a hike, I’m not worried about whether there will be a drought next year. I’m not thinking about how long this lush grass will last while my children splash in the sprinkler. I’m not wasting the precious moments of this summer feeling anxious about next summer’s weather. I’m simply enjoying the bountiful season the Lord has given us.

I can enjoy these fruitful days and trust the Lord will also be sovereign over our next season. Maybe a drought next year will wither the beautiful growth from this summer. Maybe the grass will be even greener next year. I can’t know for sure, but I can decide whether I will let that determine how I enjoy this year’s growth. Because I know I will not enjoy this season if I’m living in fear of the next one.

Riding on the boat, I wonder what creates drought conditions. While human activity impacts our climate, no one directly influences the weather. No one can determine how much it rains or how hot it is. No sprinkler or fertilizer can mimic the naturally vivid emerald lawns. Times of drought and times of flourishing are outside our control.

But they are not outside our good and gracious Creator’s control.

I think about the promise of blessing for the person who delights in the Lord: “He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers” (Psalm 1:3). This isn’t a guarantee that every season will be green in our lives. Scripture is clear on this, and I’ve experienced it in my own personal life.

Instead, this is a call to plant your roots deeply into Christ and his Word, trusting him with the harvest. It’s a reminder to not turn away from the Lord during seasons of drought or in seasons of plenty, because we can trust he is at work in both (Job 1:21). Rather than live in fear of the next season or discontentment with our current season, we can root ourselves in the Lord’s goodness and grace in our lives—trusting him with whatever comes.

When I feel like I’m in a drought, God is preparing me to yield fruit in the right season. I want to be faithful in times of plenty in the same way the Lord grew my faithfulness in times of trials. I want to enjoy this season’s fruit without worrying about how the next season’s fruit will grow.

I can’t control the growth, but I can control where I plant my roots.

Whatever the next year holds—whether another drought is around the corner or more rain is on the horizon—I want to savor this lush, green landscape. I want to take every opportunity to point my children to the abundance and goodness of their Creator. I want to enjoy being startled every morning I step outside to run down my favorite trail and marvel, “Everything is so green!”

May we be people who plant our roots deeply in the Lord—who savor the green seasons and trust Him through the dry ones.

This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Green."