27 | Autumn Rhythms

I am staring at a immense mess of paper, ribbon, glue, and scraps cluttering my desk.  I am in the midst of myriad projects, the flurry of activity leading up to our church bazaar.  I love the creative chaos (the clean-up, not so much), but I also crave the quiet that comes after.  And so my prayers have been turning to slowing down with my Savior.

Dear Lord,

You are the God of life's seasons, Divine Designer of life's rhythms.  Artist of autumn color.  Thank you for the beauty of these fall days, glowing gold, richly brown.

This year I am struck by the juxtaposition of shedding and layering that happens in this season.  Leaves burn gloriously then fall.  The landscape ripens and then withdraws into itself, the cooling soil.  There is the honking migration southward, then quiet softly wraps the skies.  Sweaters and socks emerge.  Blankets and jackets.  And we layer ourselves in warmth as the snow threatens to layer our lawns.

Paring down.  Bundling up.

Lord, help me to do this in the spiritual sense.  Help me to pare down the things that crowd my mind, my days.  (And, oh, there are so many things with which I clutter my life!)  Help me to focus on what truly gives my life meaning, vibrancy, and resilience.  Turn me inward to your blazing glory, your rich harvest.  I want to hunker down in the simplicity of you.  I know my warmth and sustenance will come from you.  Clothe me in your Holy Spirit.  Layer your love on all I do.  Wrap me in your forgiveness.  Nestle me in a community of brothers and sisters in Christ.  Warm my heart and soul with your goodness and grace.

I love the slowing of this season, God.  It feels like your reminder to slow my life down, to burrow into what sustains me most.  It is a time for reflection, thanksgiving, contentment.  Thank you for encouraging this pause, this quiet, this soft season.

Amen.