September 22, 2016

Letting Go

I'm infatuated with sunlight.  There is something about sunshine that makes me feel a certain special kind of alive.

I find beauty in it throughout the year.  It's rising and setting, it's shining brightly at the heat of the day, or when it peeks through after a storm to remind us it's still there.  And when the sun hides behind evening clouds and it creates amber and fuchsia and periwinkle colored skies, I have been known to pull over on the side of the road just to look at it.  I've chased down sunsets, awoken early to watch it rise, and I've put blankets down in my backyard in January to bathe in it's light, feeling it soak into the pieces of my soul that starve in the winter time.

And then there's the way it lights up my house.  The way it comes in through my favorite living room window makes me swoon every year, especially in the fall. As soon as the first of September hits, I wait for this magical day that happens when the sun shows off in all of it's September splendor.
It signifies a changing of seasons, of good things to come and the months ahead that my heart treasures the most.  I usually feel my heart shift with the seasons.  My quiet solitude in the winter, an awakening and renewing in the spring, and an enthusiastic energy in the summertime.  But the arrival of autumn, is different.  Autumn brings with it sweet memories of my mother, reminders of the beginning of my love story with Todd, and invitations to create some of my favorite memories with my children in pumpkin patches, costumes, parties, feasts and a time to focus on gratitude and giving of thanks. Somehow, it all begins with autumn's sunlight streaming through my window.

"The trees are about to show us how lovely it is to let things go."

This has been a year of loss for me, for our family, for our lives.  Loss of health, loss of time, loss of memories made.  Loss of relationships, friendships and community.  Of reputation, of dignity and character.  Loss of money.  Of certain hopes, dreams and plans.  Loss of weight that I've carried on my body for years.  I have been full of deep sorrow and sadness.  How life unraveled this year and spilled out into places, ended up leaving us wounded and wounding others in the process.

As another season invites me to something new, I'm aware of all that I've had to let go of this year, all that has let go of me, and all that I'm still holding on to that I need not to.  I've been coping and medicating and numbing out with all of the loss, trying to grasp on to something.  I'm discovering that loss is something we must feel, and the only way to do that is to empty our hands and stop reaching out for something to fill them with.  If my hands are empty, than they're finally open to receive.  And it's been a while since I've come before God in any measure of humility asking Him to fill them again.

Autumn's light through my window invited me to remember His goodness.  To remember that it's okay to let things go.  And to give my heart the rest, grace and kindness it needs in this season.
There's talk of our first "cold" front making it's way in soon.  I have my fall decorations ready and waiting to decorate.  My favorite white chicken chili recipe is on the menu, and a pumpkin pie to be made celebrating it's arrival.

Autumn is coming, with wind and gold.

And letting go.