September 19, 2024

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven Ecclesiastes 3:1

Fall is my favorite season of the year. That might come as no surprise to you, because many share this commonality with me. Some folks cite the changing colors of the trees as the reason they look forward to Fall, others speak to the appearance of all things pumpkin flavored, and some relish the crisp air and the return of sweater weather. I agree that all those things are fabulous, but Fall is more than cozy clothes or tasty treats.

Many memories I have of growing up center in Fall. My sisters and I would make apple dumplings, as our grandmother did years before, with each one centered on a different aspect of the preparation: dough rolling, apple peeling and coring, sugar and cinnamon filling, and the creation of the cinnamon syrup. We would make large pans and deliver them to neighbors.

The field corn, which had grown all summer, would finally be dry enough to harvest. Our neighbor farmers would work together to pick the corn and cut the stalks off at the ground- all of it to be used for feeding the cows in the winter. After being processed and mixed with other products to produce feed, those same neighbors would show up at one another’s farms to help fill their silos. 

I guess for me, Fall is a time of preparation as much as it is harvest. The life cycle of our summer bounty is plucked, our bare fields are made ready for dormancy, and we prepare its collected abundance to sustain us over a hard winter. In life, so often we think of death as Winter, with our hearts feeling as empty as barren fields. We see only what has been plucked up and taken away. We seldom think that those we love have been collected and set apart, and that we will meet them again in the hard winters of our own lives. As I grow older, I find that the people I love most who have passed away from this earthly plain aren’t as far from me as I have grieved them to be. I think of them and their echoes shadow my days. Their wisdom and example are the whispers on my heart when I ponder deep decisions or simply prepare a dessert. The seasons of our lives aren’t meant to make us feel wistful or empty, but rather delighted for that which comes next and for how we will be the sustenance and support for those we love, even though our physical presence is no longer seen. In that way, perhaps the trees, with their transforming hues, remind us that the changes that mark our seasons can be beautiful even as they signal transitions in our lives. Rather than fear the change, perhaps we should embrace these seasons of our lives and our time on earth. May God prepare us to be a beautiful harvest.