For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven: A time to… –Ecclesiastes 3:1
Each autumn I find myself steeped in memories. The memory of raking thousands of dried oak leaves in my backyard as a child, creating paths that represented hallways entering rooms. I brought furniture from inside to create an outdoor home. My sister Jane and friend, Annie would do the same. We spent hours arranging and re-arranging rooms only to bring it all back in at dusk.
I went shopping in a mall this August. The space was bustling with parents and children buying school clothes. I remembered bringing each of my four children separately to get their new school attire. I loved those outings even with the anxiety of getting the right look for them, and the right price for me. The best part of the day was picking where to have lunch just the two of us.
I am not buying school clothes for children anymore. The one in college likes to “thrift” shop with his friends and he’s not asking for anything new. I can say this makes me a little sad. I will encourage for a new pair of shoes. And we can still go out for lunch.
I feel melancholy as autumn begins. Wanting the way it used to be. Enjoying evening football games on a crisp October evening. The scent of pot roast in the slow cooker wafting through the house as Canadian geese are heard outside flying south to their winter home.
The writer of Ecclesiastes knew the changing of seasons. He knew in life there were seasons of ups and downs. Mourning and dancing, crying, and laughing, tearing down and building up. Planting and harvesting. In this wonderful short text, the writer recalls God coming with us in all seasons.
With every season, we live with the anticipation knowing God is with us. Even as we enjoy or grieve what has passed, there is hope for the crunch of a fresh Honeycrisp apple, pulling on a favorite sweater, and enjoying the moment at hand as the briskness of the fall settles in.