S E P T E M B E R 25, 2023
The hills around our house are flame- colored again, that aching color that is so hauntingly beautiful. Autumn here is such a brief season... the fireweed turns to flame, the currant and rosebushes next, and then from every hill and valley the trees are engulfed in the rich colors of fall. The leaves descend softly like golden confetti, the mornings are crisp and cool and a rolling, roiling fog covers the lake every clear dawn. So beautiful, and yet so bittersweet. I've never been good at goodbyes, and autumn spells death to me in a way that December 31 never does. The year is wrapping up. I am no farmer and my thumbs are not even slightly tinged with green, but Autumn is a harvest time nonetheless. We bring in sheaves of memories, things done and undone. Summer folds up, and the barefoot freedoms end. School begins, and I'm the teacher; how did this happen? Where has the summer gone? Where has the year gone? Where has my own childhood and youth gone? Fleeting, fleeting, mist and vapors! It is a time of taking stock, of seeing all that has been accomplished, and what has not yet even begun. All of my inadequacies stare me in the face, my shortcomings, my lack of spiritual growth, emotional self-control and gentleness seem but a distant dream. Lord, lead me! For I know not the way on my own. My steps falter and stumble. My eyes see so dimly, just haze and fog and loss and goodbyes. Let the summer die in peace, with no regrets. Bring us through the darkness, into your most glorious light. Spring will come again, and end again! Better is one day in Your courts, than thousands elsewhere. Speak to me, gentle Father, honest Brother, kindest Friend. You are my all in all.
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Lovely to hear from you!