I am thankful for the seasons. I believe that the seasons were made so we could look forward to the changes in nature. As much as I love the summer, and all the things that make summer so wonderful, I am grateful for the time when September ends. The autumn equinox brings about a change in season, when the abundant life of Spring and Summer gives way to the changes of Fall. The leaves begin to turn, the days grow shorter, the weather becomes cooler. Life, in a sense, is preparing to slumber.
We are enjoying an early change to Fall this year. Every year is different, and no one knows if the change will happen at the beginning of October, or if it will happen near the end of October. I love the fact that the weather will change earlier this year. We get more time to experience the nostalgia and the notions of Fall.
I can’t really explain the gratitude I feel for the change of seasons. I am learning that there are seasons to my own life. Some seasons of my life feel like the world is a frozen tundra, where I am surrounded by white sheets of ice, waiting for the sun of spring to melt the frost. Other seasons include the joyous outbreaks of spring, where I feel like I can fly with the eagles. My life is flourishing and I am growing in the rain and the sun. The season of spring happily greets the warmth of summer, and the two combine their strengths to ensure a long stretch of development and potential.
When September ends the time has come for the approaching harvest. All of the growth, the stretching, and the endurance of summer’s heat prepare my heart and my mind for the upcoming harvest: the test of my growth. What have I accomplished this year? What have I learned through trials and joys? What am I producing, my figurative fruit, that will pass on to the next generation? Are my branches and roots sturdy enough to bring me through the winter? Will I be able to hibernate in peace, and await for next spring’s glorious return? Will I yield to the Creator, to harvest the depths of my soul?
Lyrics to the famous Green Day Song:
Summer has come and passed, the innocent can never last, wake me up when September ends.
Like my fathers come to pass, seven years has gone so fast, wake me up when September ends.
Here comes the rain again falling from the stars, drenched in my pain again, becoming who we are.
As my memory rests, but never forgets what I lost, wake me up when September ends.
Becoming Process Driven 