Joyous Juncture

“Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.” ― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby.

Fall has come. In less than 32 hours my entire world has changed, has flipped.

Dad once told me that fall reminded him of Papaw’s death and the slow, steady cycle of time. The fall I experience is much more young and merciful.
I breath the steely, unclouded air. The light is yellow but in a less harsh way than it has been. This sky is feeling, growing, expanding. It’s a yellow that gently turns corners and peeks through dirty fiberglass doggy doors.
A thought, a déjà vu, lurks in the corners of my mind: love. But I’ve never fallen in love in the fall. In another life I must have loved someone for an autumn. It seems right. More right, at least, than dismissing the thought entirely.
The mystery in the cold air seems to whisper the word adventure. It bids no thought be spent on yesterday. It says, “This moment! This moment is now!”
Even my fatigued body perks up, willing exploits to take place, and daring me to knock on Danger’s ingress.
Don your flannel and let us be off. Up trees, near rivers, Tolkien-fashion, let us create a world in which to feast and bivouac.
You see, it’s not just a drop in temperature. More than that has happened to be sure. The whole world has changed. It readies itself for the gray death of winter.
I look forward to spring and its sunny charm, but the joy I enter into now is perfectly scheduled. A shadowy, breathy thoughtfulness reshapes my reflections. Liturgy seems more appropriate now, as the bold sun retreats for greater rest. Christmas lights are to come, leading to the turn of a 12-month era. I soak in Halloween and Harvest festivities but dare not peek around the bend to thoughts of holly and carols. We war with the urge to bury ourselves in blankets and contemplation, wishing all the best to those outside our threshold.

All of this is self-confessed by a whisp of air that blissfully tugs my bangs from their place against my skin. Magically the earth communicates with us more clearly than it has since last fall.

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Talitha Cumi

Who am I that You have brought me thus far?~David, 2 Samuel 7:18-29

Who am I that You pour out all joy on me?
Who am I that You bless me in every way?
Who am I to help care for the needy people here on earth?
Who am I that you lead sojourners into my life?

The world I see is a lovely one. It’s a world of hope and mercy. A place of confusion but not suspicion. It’s a world of broken people and broken hearts, and potential to be made well. It’s a land bursting with opportunity, with chances to make changes. This is a world where people who believe in something can come together and give their dream birth. It’s a nation indulging in sin while crying out for knowledge. It’s a world that says, “help, I’m drowning!” It’s a country that gives some much so that they will be equipped to help those with little.
It’s a planet in the hands of a lively, creative God who loves His children and looks forward to the time of restoration.

And He says to me, “Little girl, arise.”

Let us hold less tightly to our interpretations of God’s law and cling more desperately to Jesus and the relationships we have with other sinners.

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets. ~Matthew 22:37-40