Every Day, and then the Rest

Before I left Connecticut the leaves were beginning to turn to their splendid New England crimsons and gold’s. I picked a few and pressed them because I wanted to remember autumn as I know and love it. I suspected that autumn would be different for me this year. And, it is.

This is a beautiful time of the year here also. The sun is still brilliant yes, but it has the feel and look of a sun that has worked it hardest to provide the deepest and most intense solar rays that it possibly could and now, needs a rest. Dusk and dawn are cooler and a simple breeze whispers to me to put on a sweater. The leaves are dusty as is everything in Israel but they still are content to hold onto their varied hues of green. It’s true though, like the sun, the leaves are tired too and when they clap in the breeze, only brittleness echoes.

Subtly, creation transforms itself into something new. The old will pass. The new will come. We will prepare for winter. It’s a blessing that we can count on this change. This divine change interestingly enough lends predictability to an uncertain world and sends rejuvenation in the face of death. We can let go and look ahead both at same time. Summer concedes to fall, fall slows down for winter, and winter prepares for spring.

The path of God is like witnessing the turning of the seasons. When we walk that path with each step taken, there is one left behind. A step is an act of faith, a belief in the future, and, at the same time a removal of doubt and fear. We let go to embrace the future. In God’s holy name may we traverse each day. In the splendor of the Creator’s seasons may we seek and find beauty and comfort.