We've not spent a lot of time home this month in the midst of celebrations. There was a funeral for my grandmother, a first birthday party for Esther at my parent's house, and a wedding for dear friends. So many directions for a heart to travel in one month, but fitting too. For on the edges of our grief, there is always joy waiting. Just moments after we bury someone we love most of all, there's a need: a nose to be wiped, a dirty diaper, a brother chasing after his sister. The business of life, and children, continue. "Find comfort in your children," a friend advised. She had done the same after her father died. So I have been finding comfort in our children, our faith, and in our leaves too.
This time of year is peak leaf-viewing around these parts, and this year hasn't disappointed. We returned this weekend to find the maple off our upper-deck turning gold, and it finished that transformation this morning. I've always found lessons in changing leaves: to celebrate until the last of our days, to dress gaily in cold weather, to hang on until the very end. And this morning was no exception. Those beautiful colors reminded me that this is a fall in the midst of many falls to come. And this grief, like joy, is in the midst of many more griefs and joys to come. After fall there will be a winter, then a spring, and the cycle will continue. There was peace in the revelation, and warmth as that bright morning sun filled our living room. So, friends, I'm going to continue grieving and celebrating, happy to have leaves and children for good company.
