Long before dropping temperatures announced the official arrival of fall, I’d been eager for the season. I love fall. I love how honeyed hues shimmer beside rich jewel tones. How the morning and evening cool sandwiches the lingering warmth of day. How humming birds make a brief stop at my feeders before zinging to the neighbor’s yard. How fruit tree branches bend with the weight of their oblations.
Summer is transitioning to winter, and pleasure adorns the change.
It’s a season that could feel sad. The colors I love so much signal dying. The birds are fueling for migration. The fruit tree is providing its last offering. But it doesn’t feel painful. It feels like joy. And beauty. And anticipation.
Our transitions can hold a similar glory.
I’ve watched the aged in those transitory years prior to death cease to bow beneath life’s toil. With slow and carefully placed steps, they linger, providing wisdom of the past for the frantic present. Like changing leaves, their contributions blaze boldly before dropping quietly to the earth. I’ve seen children of God depart from life, leaving behind the fragrance of their testimony to perfume the world, like pumpkin spice upon the air. I’ve felt the shift of seasons as I moved from bliss to responsibility, flitting like hummingbirds as innocence gave way to aging. Exquisite hues of family and friends have enriched my life, making it golden before their brilliance was shaded with distance and circumstance. I’ve plucked the final offerings of goodbyes, of ended adventures, of closing opportunities, the taste tangy and sweet. All fall-like changes baptized with loveliness.
The truth is, there is beauty in every transition. Those places where the gears of life pause before engaging. Where one season breathes deep before plunging into the next. These inhales are necessary. They, too, are a season. They are fall, easing summer to winter, and they hold a special blessing. They move us through life and into eternity. In these moments lie ethereal splendor if we but take the time to absorb the wonder of the offering. If we fling our arms wide in anticipation, eager to embrace what is as we look for what is yet to come, we will experience awe of the gifts that God has provided for every season of our lives. Amid the dying we’ll discover glory. And It’ll feel a lot like joy.
Tip/Tidbit: Look for the blessing of TODAY. Perhaps, you are in a season of loss, and the blessing is the gift of what you once had or the blessing of what still remains. Perhaps you’re transitioning to new things. Savor the present place. Don’t waste the joys of now. They could be just as rich as the delights that are ahead.