Graces of the Season

I love the fact that we live in a country where the landscape visibly changes over the course of a year. Autumn in the UK is especially beautiful. This month has been blessed with bright sunshine and crisp dawns. The early morning chill dissipates and warmth can be easily found out of the shade of the trees.

The trees themselves have a special beauty as the leaves fall and the skeletal branches are revealed. Somehow, nature becomes bare and a new beauty is revealed. Some people dread this time as it heralds the long hours of darkness that shape our winters. I love the frosts, the ‘shush’ of leaves underfoot, and the distinctive smell of autumn. I love the stillness that these sights and sounds lead me into.

 The liturgy of the Church reflects the changing seasons on the northern hemisphere. As we enter the last weeks of the liturgical year our readings seem to be a call to readiness. We are called in our prayer to look at our world, to see the presence of God, to delight in that presence and bring others to an awareness of it. This is the prophetic attitude of ‘reading the signs of the times.’ Nature teaches us that there is life, dying and new life all around us. The seasons teach us to rejoice in the beauty of the present moment. That while the earth lies dormant in the chill of winter, wonderful re-creation is occurring. In a few short months the surface of the earth will be torn as new shoots burst forth. Life is renewed and this renewal is born of a seeming barrenness.

 I think the invitation is to surrender to these moments of stillness. As winter reveals a bare landscape, maybe we are being called to realise how in need we are of God to renew and revitalise us. Are we attentive to what God might be saying to us in these times? Are we open to be renewed and re-created? Or are we resistant?

Or maybe we just need to see life differently and delight in our changing seasons. When I was a child the words of this hymn were sung in schools across the land

 Autumn Days~by Estelle White

Autumn days, when the grass is jewelled
And the silk inside a chestnut shell
Jet planes meeting in the air to be refuelled
All these things I love so well

So I mustn’t forget
No, I mustn’t forget
To say a great big thank you
I mustn’t forget.

Clouds that look like familiar faces
And a winter’s moon with frosted rings
Smell of bacon as I fasten up my laces
And the song the milkman sings.

So I mustn’t forget
No, I mustn’t forget
To say a great big thank you
I mustn’t forget.

Whipped-up spray that is rainbow-scattered
And a swallow curving in the sky
Shoes so comfy though they’re worn out and they’re battered
And the taste of apple pie.

So I mustn’t forget
No, I mustn’t forget
To say a great big thank you
I mustn’t forget.

Scent of gardens when the rain’s been falling
And a minnow darting down a stream
Picked-up engine that’s been stuttering and stalling
And a win for my home team.

So I mustn’t forget
No, I mustn’t forget
To say a great big thank you
I mustn’t forget.

Maybe we could each spend a moment thanking God for the gift of this day and for the beauty that surrounds us.