I woke up this morning to a perfect chillness, the cabin softly creaking as the sun winked through the pines. The little dog next to me scooted closer and tucked his nose under the covers. He obviously thought I should stay a bit longer.
But September beckons with early mornings, and so I arose.
I poured the water into the coffee pot, and generously heaped the “Highlander Grogg” grounds into the basket. I think that if you stick the word “Highland” or “Highlander” on anything, it immediately makes whatever it is more desirable. At least more enchanting. It certainly helps out poor, little “grogg”.
Dressed, breakfasted, and with windows open, I sat down to my work.
The breeze rustled the leaves outside my alpine cabin, and I thought…it’s so quiet.
When was the last time I noticed the quiet…
Or allowed it to be quiet.
Yes, I know that it can be easy to create a space absent of sound, but that’s not what I’m talking about.
When was the last time you let your heart be quiet?
I believe it’s in the quiet we find our thoughts. The ones that have settled away somewhere inside and quietly awaited acknowledgement. They usually aren’t the urgent thoughts, but they are the ones that require the most of us. They require bravery to think through…and I think that is why we don’t often seek the quiet spaces. We sense what is asked of us there, and we more often than not decline.
Fall is my favorite season. And when I say that, I mean that the season dances in my veins—aching with joy at fall’s arrival. It’s the season I feel most alive throughout. My soul rests and dreams, and I smile an awful lot.
It’s a season for remembering, for activating the spark within to push forward despite all that lies before us. It’s a season that demands attention to the moment. Summer sighs herself to sleep, and we are beckoned to become more than we have been.
I always loved the beginning of school growing up. I found it exciting—it was an adventure! The new books, the blank paper, the sharpened pencils with no bite marks…yet. Friends back from vacation, delicious, cool air….leaves in all the shades I adore the most falling like jewels into delightful, crunchable heaps. Tire swings. Sweaters. Boots. Candles.
I told you I like fall.
I think, though…what I love most about the season is that it naturally provides and calls us to that place of inward quiet. It’s a season of preparation, planning, and learning to recognize what is truly important. We are invited to reprioritize, to ask the question, “Who am I?” and “Am I living life well or allowing time to slip comfortably through me?”
Fall and quiet are gentle friends. They inspire us and challenge our hearts, but they do so with the spirits of generosity, peace, and hope.
We often associate hope with the spring season I think. But I believe that fall is the bravest of seasons. It knows that the laughter and slumber of summer was beautiful and good…but that it is now time press forward—to move out of pleasant and into purpose. Fall sheds the outer layers of itself and exposes the inward parts. Leaves are beautiful, and flowers delight us…but they are not what sustains the plant. The roots, the branches…the crisping air…they become apparent. They become all of what is left.
And it’s the stripped inner parts of nature that are left to endure the winter.
I believe God guides us through all seasons—and gives us vivid examples of how to navigate the present through creation.
If fall is a season to prepare, to courageously and daringly climb onward, to strip away the unnecessary and inauthentic parts of ourselves…then we need to more willingly enter and dwell within our quiet spaces.
I need to learn to be still and be quiet with my God. And I sense His invitation to do so in this fall season…to quietly relinquish control of whatever is to come…and trust that He will sustain me through the winter months. Fall is a season of hope. Of trust and of courage.
It’s a season for us to be quiet—bravely.
Beautiful! Thank you!
Very catchy. Piqued my interest from beginning to end. Lighthearted, and thoughtful