The Betrayal of Autumn

Last year I posted this photograph on my social media along with the caption, "Because some days this is the only thing that makes any sense to me."

Fall arrived last year in the midst of a season of loss and change in my life, and as the leaves changed colours and gradually dropped, forming a soft carpet on the forest floor, I felt a gentle reassurance in the changing of the seasons. Just as summer yields to fall, and fall to winter, I felt a gentle reassurance in seeing my own season of loss mirrored in the created world, and I grew to trust that I was safe in the hands of the Creator who brings such beauty in the midst of a season of dying.

This year, the leaves seem to be beginning their autumnal transformation early, and I feel betrayed.

I am not ready for the lush green growth of summer to end. In this season, at the beginning of a new adventure, the reminder of fall that "there is a time for everything" is not wisdom that I want to hear.

I'd rather hear, "Everything is going to be okay."

Instead, the leaves and the memories they bring remind me that sometimes things do not turn out the way that we want them to, no matter how hard we try or how much we hope and pray.

I'd rather hear, "Don't worry!"

Instead, I see reflected in the world all around me a reflection of my fears--that this, too, is too good to be true and I might be asked to give it up as well.

The arrival of autumn is betraying all of my attempts to put my fingers in my ears, tune out the things I'd rather ignore, and live in blissful denial for a season. To focus on joy, and ignore the hard truth that there is much happiness and fulfillment in this new season of life--but that it coexists with the reality that the joy doesn't erase the hurt and sense of betrayal of a year ago.

Hear me well--I am happy, and there is a great deal of joy in my life this September. I don't for a minute regret leaving my 'safe career' behind to pursue my heart's true love. There is so much that I want to experience and so much that I'm looking forward to. I'm so grateful for this new congregation where I've been planted.

But the last couple of years have been hard, and even when I'd rather ignore it, the truth is that my spiritual director was right (again!) and that it is healthy and necessary to honour hard emotions too, not only the happy ones.

I was driving out to the forest yesterday to spend some time on my day off lost in a sea of trees and soft breezes, where my soul feels most connected to my Creator. And along the way, I was praying and telling God that I was annoyed at the feelings of sadness that were arriving, unbidden, along with the hues of yellow on the trees outside my windows.

But even as I was prayer-ranting, I sensed a growing awareness that to revisit the sadness and the fears that this season reminds me of isn't a bad thing. It doesn't signal sure and certain doom, nor does it prove that my fears about the same thing happening again are bound to come true.

It just echoes the poet's words: "There is a time for everything." Joy and fear coexist; happiness and sadness are not mutually exclusive.

I will be a better pastor and a more compassionate friend if I can gently learn to honour not only the consolations of life, but also the desolations.

Instead of tensing up, putting my fingers in my ears, squeezing my eyes tightly shut, and ignoring the inevitability of the upcoming transformation in the world around me, I'm going to try to relax into the reassurance that it's okay to be scared and it's okay to be sad. It's okay to take time to acknowledge the hard stuff, without fearing that it will make me oblivious to the many blessings around me. It's okay to honour both joy and pain. One is not holier than the other.

Yes, the leaves are changing. And their gift is to make me aware of the fullness of who I am, and the fullness of who God is. They invite me to an authenticity that I might initially want to reject, but that I'll be richer for paying attention to. They invite me to encounter a God who is big enough for all parts of me, not only the joyful and happy parts of me. They reassure me that even if the world only wants to see my social media highlights role, God invites something deeper and doesn't shy away from the behind-the-scenes me.

May I have the courage and the grace to say yes to their gentle invitation.