[As] I weather the autumn of my own life — I find nature a trustworthy guide. It’s easy to fixate on everything that goes to ground as time goes by: the disintegration of a relationship, the disappearance of good work well-done, the diminishment of a sense of purpose and meaning. But, as I’ve come to understand that life “composts” and “seeds” us as autumn does the earth. I’ve seen how possibility gets planted in us even in the most difficult of times. Parker Palmer
Words of Hope
Autumn is a season for my heart: the leaves waving their glory—goldenrod, russet, magenta, caramel; the softening of light and shadow; the silence which draw us into contemplative depths. I would hold these days at the peak of their beauty—yet leaves will fall, shedding and cascading to piles becoming playgrounds for children. They fall, decay and die, yet become the fertile ground for new life.
Of his own life, Parker Palmer speaks: “Looking back, I see how the job I lost pushed me to find work that was mine to do, how the “Road Closed” sign turned me toward terrain I’m glad I traveled, how losses that felt irredeemable forced me to find new sources of meaning. In each of these experiences, it felt as though something was dying, and so it was. Yet deep down, amid all the falling, the seeds of new life were always being silently and lavishly sown.”
Many of us can confirm the truth of Palmer’s experience. My own deepest loss turned to new life as God’s Grace ignited the ashes of grief into spiritual fire.
This autumn, I invite you to reflect on those times in your life where loss and death were shaped anew, seeded into hope and possibility. Such recollection can help sustain us in hope during present darkness.
God of all seasons, Thank you for the seeds of new life “silently and lavishly sown,” waiting for just the right moment to send their green shoots into the light. Amen.
Dr. Pat Saxon