Autumn

It is September, and in spite of the uncertainty of our current situation, and my struggles with patience and understanding, there is something in the air that signals to my soul that change is approaching (be it as simple as the changing of a season), and that is a hopeful thing!

When the light changes, and the air becomes crisper, I feel more alive, and even a bit romantic. Not in a "let's get together kind of way," but rather a goofy, "Anne of Green Gables" kind of way. An imaginative, adventurous bug begins to bite, and I'm consumed with thoughts of harvests and apple-picking, Renaissance festivals and the Appalachian mountains in their Autumn glory.

In short, I would rather be walking in a field surrounded by fluttering leaves in red and gold and yellow, a rickety barn with faded red paint in the distance, than sitting here in my room, confined by the children's illnesses, or school, or laundry, or all the dull happenings of real life.

Thank God that Autumn brings this respite to the exhausted heat of summer, and thank God that it brings hope, like the wind to the tips of the trees, because that's something that I'm usually short on. It has been 17 months since we put our house in NC up for sale. 17 months of living with my generous and patient in-laws, and 17 months of battling frustration and hopelessness. I'm not sure what that says about me. That I'm human? That I'm nowhere near where I should be on this faith journey? That I'm not moving because I'm still holding on? “You can't get away from yourself by moving from one place to another.” And Hemingway would know, I suppose. It's funny to write this post, because not far below it is my first post from 3 years ago, where I lamented the fact that I had no car and was stuck at home most of the time. Now the tables are turned: I have a car, but I have no home of my own!! Even I can see the humor in this... today. Maybe not tomorrow. ;)

Faulkner said, “Surely heaven must have something of the color and shape of whatever village or hill or cottage of which the believer says, This is my own." I couldn't hope to say it better, and Lord, is it true! Never has heaven on earth looked more like a little house on a little land, with some little chickens pecking at a little garden.

My mother reminds me over and over that this isn't permanent, like the pregnancy that goes on and on. You know that this baby is going to come out. I mean, she has to! But it feels like it will never happen, and how much more can you take? How long can you stumble in the dark, without guidance? I can't pretend to claim a dark night of the soul. I likewise can't pretend to claim a perfect relationship with He whom I cannot see but strive to love. And though I can't feel Him now, I must remember that I have felt Him in the past, and there is no question that His love consumes me, if I will only let it. Maybe I need to focus less on how I feel, and more on today. It's strange, but since my father died in May, it has been a little easier to trust, because I know he will do everything he can to take care of us, on a heavenly scale! I know that he is interceding for us, and I also know that since he can see the big picture, the one that still eludes me, I just have to hold on a little longer. I know that's an imperfect and human way to look at it, and so I am. But it's always easier to deal with the tangible.

So for now, I have Autumn, which is utterly thrilling in its tangibility, and I'll try to take it one day at a time. Thy will be done... Just make it fast.