Gift Tag: Celebrating Fall

Little Drummer Boy has been pestering me about the “Welcome Spring” ladybug flag we’ve had hanging off our back stoop since sometime in June. I mentioned recently that it was almost Fall, and we needed to hang our scarecrow version instead. Since then, he’s asked me almost every day if I’ve hung it. I had to answer “no” each time with the promise that we would get it out of the cabinet like we do around the beginning of each October, and he could help me. Of course, his mind moved on to Transformers and other Super Heroes, and mine moved on to ten thousand other things.

October has really sneaked up on me this year. I’m usually counting down the days until this month begins with the Fall-like weather and changes in nature it usually brings in Mississippi. This year, however, I have had a hard time noticing. I suppose I’ve had other things on my mind.

I was sitting at the dining table with Little Drummer Boy this weekend. It was after a meal at some point, and I was lamenting aloud that I had forgotten something or not done something he’d asked or something I had planned. I really don’t remember. Whatever it was, LDB’s response was, “That’s ok.” Even at his age, he’s an encourager, wanting me to know that all is right with the world even if I hadn’t remembered something I was supposed to. He leaned in close with a look of intent in his smiling eyes and added, “‘Cause we’re celebrating Fall.”

Hmmm. So, we’re celebrating? To be honest, I had actually been dreading the “celebration” of the Autumn season, and I hadn’t been willing to really explore why. But, I looked in his vibrant face with the innocent confirmation of a joy some silly tradition I had randomly established created, and at that moment I realized we were already celebrating. I had been saying that we needed to celebrate Fall, that we were going to do it with some of the usual pumpkins and Indian corn and scarecrows we usually bring out for the season. But, I hadn’t actually gotten around to the celebrating part. Until I heard Little Drummer Boy’s declaration of it, I wasn’t really in the celebration frame of mind.

October is usually a month of evaluation for me. I think most of us have those times in the year when our thoughts naturally gravitate toward self-inspection and life-inspection. For me, one of those times is October. Perhaps the tendency began because my birthday falls at the end of the month. Plus, there is something about the first touches of coolness in the air that seem to inspire an airing out of my spirit after the long summer.

Airing out. I find myself writing (and thinking) about transition a lot recently. My essays tagged with “change” are growing in numbers. Of course, there have been a few logistical changes in my life recently–namely beginning my own business, a change that has affected my approach to work, my finances and in practical terms, how I spend my days. More than the physical changes, though, I’ve sensed my heart in transition. Over the last year, I’ve been seeing dormant areas of my life that need awakening. I’ve had a renewed recognition of the passage of time and of how quickly it seems to move. I’ve noticed areas of life that I’m just not satisfied with–areas I’ve determined must change in order for this journey to more closely match my hopes and dreams.

I’ll confess that these realizations have darkened the skies in my anticipation of Fall this year. I was beginning to see this season of typical introspection for me as foe rather than friend. For, the “taking stock” that so often accompanies October for me usually goes hand in hand with a strong sense of celebration in an inherently fruitful time, and a joy in the acceptance of change and newness that I’ve had a hard time mustering lately. Oddly, I’ve been holding myself back from my usual excitement about the arrival of Autumn. Perhaps in my mind, the change of seasons represents so much more of my own changes than ever before, the need for turning over leaves. Perhaps it reminds me more of the discontent that’s been taking root, and of the decisions and will to act that is usually required to produce sustainable change.

“That’s ok. ‘Cause we’re celebrating Fall.”

Somewhere in the five years LDB has been in this world, he’s caught on to the fact that life is worth celebrating. That Fall is worth celebrating. That it’s fun to do a silly thing like taking down the ladybug back yard flag and replacing it with the scarecrow version. It’s fun to notice the big pumpkins and sunflowers and the silly crow sitting on the scarecrow’s shoulder. And, somehow in his declaration of our “celebration,” I realized that indeed it is “ok.”

Whatever frustrations I’m laboring through with the changes I’m experiencing or anticipating in my grown-up life, there is still room for joy. Even if I’m not fully where I want to be, where I feel like I need to be, there is still the opportunity to exercise the discipline of celebration. Even if it only begins as a discipline, “that’s ok.” Even if my process of change has me falling short of turning over new leaves at the pace I was hoping, “that’s ok.” Perfection isn’t required for celebration. And given the choice, I’m not willing to hold off on celebration until perfection arrives.

I read something this week that encouraged me to open my eyes. To look around me and see with true awareness the realities of my life. It’s so easy to focus on areas where we want changes and to overlook those that offer continual blessings and laughter and enrichment. It’s so easy to say “yes, but.” I was reminded to look with eyes of potential and possibility at the circumstances that have been challenging and to recognize how far I’ve come. To CHOOSE to focus on the incredible blessings I’ve been given, the treasures entrusted to me. To choose to embrace the reality I’ve written of: that life is change, and change is growth. Each step–even the rocky or slippery one– is one taking me further on the journey of a life worth making.

On Sunday, Little Drummer Boy, Squiggle Bug, Baby Girl and I determined that the scarecrow in the cabinet had gotten lonely. We even thought we could hear him calling out to us. LDB was certain he was sad he hadn’t been able to “watch us play” this year. We pulled him from the pile and put him on the flag pole. A first step this season.

“‘Cause we’re celebrating Fall.”

September

September is upon us. In Starkville, we are having cooler weather already–a little unusual for Mississippi. That transition is always nice after the heat and humidity of Summer. Those first few mornings when the breeze is actually cooler usually lift my spirits right away. I know I’ve shared that Autumn is my favorite time of year.

As I was deciding on a theme for this month’s desktop wallpaper calendar (click to download if you like), it occurred to me that often there is no other time when we more readily embrace transition than September. In fact, at this time of year we are sometimes even eager for the changes that come. As I mentioned, September brings the end of Summer’s heat and the first hints of more pleasant temperatures. It celebrates the beginning of a new school year for so many youngsters. It sets in motion the warming up of nature’s color palette as we begin to see subtle shifts in the blue of the sky and the fading of green on tree leaves. These transitions shake us out of the tired landscape where we’ve spent the summer.

In September, Summer’s luxuries of play and rest and taking breaks give way to renewed motivation to get back to the tasks at hand. We re-adjust our schedules with more focus. We outfit ourselves with new “necessities” that will spur us on to accomplish new things. We shake off the doldrums and attempt to get ourselves moving again.

I’ve written about the many changes that have been happening in my life over the last few months. Transition should be old hat to me by now. Yet, I find that the doldrums of complacency in my heart still need a little shaking free this month. So often, the heart moves at a different pace than the rest of us in making a transition. Sometimes it leads the charge. Sometimes it lags behind and needs a little coersion. Sometimes it just grows wayward in avoidance or denial. But, the realities of change and transition are just that. Realities. Just as surely as seasons come and go; the cycle of life changes can not be denied.

In thinking about the resistence I sometimes feel in my own heart when faced with transition, I was struck by one little line in the Wordsworth poem I included in my wallpaper design.

“Unfaded, yet prepared to fade”

That observation of September is so appropriate. Summer’s verdant colors still largely remain this month. The cooler temperatures reminiscent of Fall will be sporadic at best. Summer remains unfaded. Yet. [That's a big word for only three letters.] YET, in September, Summer is “prepared” to fade. For in September, just as in any situation ripe for transition, you never know which season you’ll get moment by moment. At a breath’s notice, Summer and Autumn are just as likely to appear. Perhaps it’s nature’s way of coaxing us into the change.

It’s becoming more and more apparent that this particular season in my life is one of transition. I want my heart to be prepared. I want my heart to be ready to embrace it, to accept it, to shine through it. As chapters fade and new ones open, I want my heart on board. Completely.

Oh Happy Day 111309: Seasons

Happy Friday, again! My Oh Happy Day gratitude project has seriously fallen through the cracks over the last few weeks, as has my “5 grateful things” habit that was intended to fuel it. Nonetheless, with the Thanksgiving holiday looming, now seems like the perfect time to revitalize my own version of “thank God it’s Friday” in post form. On Sunday I’ll be beginning this year’s 12 Days of Thanksgiving celebration with a post each day leading up to the national holiday. I can’t wait to see what I learn this year about the power of a thankful heart.

I’ve been thinking about seasons this week. It’s easy to notice the changing of seasons in Fall as the leaves begin their display of colors. The changing of seasons in life is not always as easy to spot. Yesterday I drove Little Drummer Boy and Bug to see Disney on Ice in Tupelo, Mississippi–about 75 miles through mostly farm lands. We saw combines harvesting and cows grazing and big trucks rolling and seasons changing. I’ve always thought that Mississippi didn’t have much of an Autumnal show of color with our mild climate, at least not the kind of show you see in cooler locales. But, lately I’ve realized that our trees have their own display, if you only know where to look.

More often than not, our Fall color comes in varying shades of greens and reddish browns, sliced by a gray entanglement of bare branches. This backdrop makes the less prolific Sugar Maple, Crape Myrtle, Bradford Pear or Ginko simply shine with vibrance. The bright reds, yellows and various in betweens they produce become jewels in the normal Mississippi sight line. It’s all in where you look.

Last November, only Little Drummer Boy and I went to see Mickey Mouse ice skate. It was a special Mommy-toddler day where we caravaned with the rest of his class from preschool. When we returned, we visited McDonalds–just the two of us. It was a rare pleasure. Yesterday, Bug was with us and it was just as special, only with a few signs of seasons changing. Signs that have been sneaking up on me for a while.

Bug wasn’t old enough last year, and LDB spent his visit to the “show” sitting in Mommy’s lap. This year, LDB was content to sit in his seat beside me or stand to see better. He covered his ears when the music got too loud rather than look to Mommy with concern. It was Bug’s turn to sit in my lap with the wide-eyed wonder of new and uncertain experiences.

Last year, LDB was awed by the Tinkerbel “show light” we got and the cotton candy–a memory that hasn’t faded. He decided early on in our planning that Bug should get one this year. They both got a “Nemo” light this year (yes, we contributed to the massie Disney machine, much to my chagrin), but a year older meant Little Drummer Boy was somewhat more savvy in his understanding of his purchasing power. He wanted another toy as well, so of course, Mommy obliged for both boys. We’ve slowly become more and more aware of the culture around us. Seasons change.

Last year, I was hard-pressed to convince Little Drummer Boy to leave the McDonald’s booth to play on the big slides. It wasn’t because he was afraid of the toys, it was because sitting next to Mommy was more of a treat. This year, I was hard-pressed to get both boys to come sit at the table long enough to scarf down their chicken nuggets. And, even though I could see the delight in their eyes as they catapulted out of the slide chute and came running to Mommy for a hug, I also saw the turning of the leaves. LDB still looks back to say “I love you Mommy,” but he’s off. Simply sitting beside Mommy to share french fries isn’t all there is anymore.

The seasons are changing. I can see their independence growing and their immersion in the culture around us expanding–the things that pull them and push them from my arms into the unknown. But, this is still a Happy Day post. Though the changing of seasons inevitably involves a bit of mourning for the old, it also bears an eager anticipation of the new. I’m very thankful that God offers us the promise of changing seasons–in nature and in life. All life, be it leaves or humans, is created to grow, to change, to move toward its destiny–or die. Those are the options. To hold back the change would be to do my gifts a great disservice in inhibiting their launch toward the people God made them to be. With the promise of seasons, we can see change. We can see growth. We can see that much is temporary and refine what isn’t. We can see ends and beginnings, both of which have their own blessing.

“In everything there is a season. And there is a time for every event under heaven–
A time to give birth and a time to die; A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted.
A time to kill and a time to heal; A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to weep and a time to laugh; A time to mourn and a time to dance.
A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones; A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing.
A time to search and a time to give up as lost; A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to tear apart and a time to sew together; A time to be silent and a time to speak.
A time to love and a time to hate; A time for war and a time for peace.”

(ecclesiastes 3:1-8)

Oh Happy Day!

Tues Twelve 110309: Fall on the Farm

This week’s Tuesday Ten Twelve list features things I love about Fall on “the farm”–one of my favorite places on earth. These scenes were captured on our recent sojourn for the Busy Bee Birthday Bonfire Bash, a family tradition.

1. Unswept cobwebs.

2. Wagon rides.

3. Yellow.

4. Brangus.

5. Red.

6. New heights.

7. Contemplation.

8. Aging vibrantly.

9. Overgrown paths.

10. First looks.

11. Shared gifts.

12. Beauty in unwatched places.

[This post is brought to you with special thanks to G-Mo and Paw-T, who gave us a Canon PowerShot SX20IS digital camera for the Montgomery adults' collective birthdays. Astounding life documentation on the way!]

Don’t Know Jack?

It’s October! Number 10 is my favorite month for so many reasons. It sort of serves as a personal New Year since my birthday falls at the end of the month. As the air turns crisp, I tend to air out my spirit a bit, appreciate the little pleasures more, and resolve to redirect my efforts where I really want them to count. And, let’s not forget orange. What’s not to love about orange!

For October’s desktop design, I couldn’t resist using a quote from my sweet Bug: “peek-ee-boot”. It was his first attempt at naming that giggle-producing game we all know. His unquenchable spirit is, well, unquenchable. (And, believe me I’ve tried many times in numerous public places.) But, it’s contagious in these free spirited days of early Autumn. The playful nature of transition always seems to peek through. Of course, one of Little Drummer Boy’s photographic efforts from last year made it into the mix with its toothy grin–a dude named Jack, nimble like the Drummer himself. The leaves are scans of ones we gathered in an autumn trip to the Great Smoky Mountains a few years ago, captured just as the color was waning.

Hope you enjoy! Point-clicky on the takeout box below to grab the full size version.