October - Trees, glorious trees!

November - Leafless silhouettes stand guard at wood’s edge.

December - The dark, dank days of winter to come.

I hate to see autumn go, but looking out my back window I realize I have a much clearer view of the sky now. My binoculars capture more birds. Ten squirrels play acrobat and trapeze artist in the trees - when the trees were in full leaf, I only saw two.

As I begin letting go of Joel to reach towards the future, I realize that God is doing the same thing to me - changing the landscape of my heart so that I might have a clearer view. Of God. Of what God has in store for me. Of what God has in store for Joel. For Wally. For Matt, Justin and Elizabeth.

What is it about this season - so bittersweet - that makes us reach upwards and dig deep at the same time?

This poem came to me as I drove Joel to school early one autumn morning:

Autumn Communion

Wafer thin moon
cradled as host
above burning bushes
Body of Christ
broken for me
Taste!
Eat!
Drink!
Dawn’s mist,
sauvignon with subtle
overtones of oak,
fortifies
against the chill
of winter