Too warm.
Too wet.
Too hot.
Too dry.
Too cold.
Every year, strident voices speak into the discussion surrounding the beauty of autumn in the east. They say...they say...they say.
Opinions abound, based on what? Part economic tourism concerns, part science, part Old Farmer’s Almanac, part the “need-to-grouse-about-something” perspective that seems to pervade our culture. I guess you could even spin this blog post as a grumble about the gripers. (Or a gripe about the grumblers??) But stay with me, we're going somewhere.
What would happen if someone would just say –
The leaves will be lovely again this year, in their own time, in their own way. They’ll be brilliant, vivid, muted, stunning, picturesque, pleasing, mellow, glowing...they’ll be something amazing, sooner or later, don’t miss the show!
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but it might ratchet back the stress levels just a little bit in one tiny area of our lives,
give us a different set of "perspecticals" for viewing the world, our world.
And that would have to be good.
And maybe it would point us toward gratitude.
They said, “The leaves won’t be pretty this year, it’s been too ... something.”
For the wonder of it all, whenever it happens.
For the way it all does happen - without my needing to do anything except notice. (Control is overrated, exhausting, and for the most part non-existent.)
For the extravagance of whole hillsides splashed with exuberant hues, the colors of the dying leaves. (And that’s another rabbit trail for another day...the beauty in the dying. Do not bury me in black.)
For a Creator who said, “Let the earth bring forth vegetation...” (Genesis 1:11, 12)
And when God said...it was so.
And it was good.
God said...and it was so.
And it was good.
I want to be listening for "God said..."
and if I'm talking, and you quote me, I hope you can say,
"She said, "Thanks.'"