I am a student of the seasons.
Fall especially. There is just something deeply metaphorical about the transition from summer to winter–life shedding its dead and making room for eventual regrowth.
So, I’ve been breathing in the crisp air and listening a little more closely to the acorns as they fall from their branches and crunch beneath my feet all the while wondering what new thing fall has to teach me this year.
I welcomed this particular fall from a hospital room as Sawyer’s first full 24 hours of life landed squarely on the Autumnal Equinox. It was fitting and good for my soul; a new season ushered in a new season.
This has been longest fall I can remember. Many of the trees here have retained their vibrancy (even despite a little rain which you might remember disrupted a baseball game not long ago…) and many others have yet to change at all.
Even so, I’m reminded that it won’t last.
The beauty of fall has to transition into the barrenness of winter.
It must change.
That’s usually what I think about during fall. The implications of change and “letting go” in my own life.
But this year I realized that something has to stay the same.
This season of my own life feels a little upended–a limbo of sorts. Much like fall, we’re in process. We’re letting go of the old way of doing things and making room for the new.
(You know, just the natural order when a baby arrives and shakes everything up for a time.)
And yet, I am sure of this: that He who began a good work in me will bring it to completion¹.
Because He is the vine and I am the branch. To abide in Him is to bear much fruit².
The tree stays the same. It remains the constant throughout each season while the branches let go of the dead and make room for the new growth.
I’ve come to learn during each season of my life that change is good and necessary.
But even better is being tethered to something (Someone) life-sustaining during each of those seasons.
And so, I feel okay about the rain that has moved back in. It promises to steal some of our fall vibrancy and usher in the cooler (more seasonably appropriate) temperatures.
Through it all, I know that the important things remain and will give life to all the seasons to come.
¹ Philippians 1:6
² John 15:5