Victoria Advocate, A Different Perspective
Autumn is a highly anticipated season in South Texas. We know all about hot scorching summers, but autumn? It’s always too short for me, even though our winters are on the lazy side.
Some early mornings are downright pleasant these days. The slightest hint of what’s coming, only to be snuffed out by high (and higher) temps. I linger on my balcony, hoping to hang on to the sweet promise of fall. Some days still revert to muggy steam baths. When that happens, the humidity chases me and my coffee back inside.
Contrary to other parts of the country, most of the leaves around here don’t turn pretty colors. Trees turn brown, then bare as the leaves fall to the ground. Some grasses stay green, but dormant fields take on a tawny hue. All of which my husband much prefers to the snowy North. He loves being outdoors, but not in freezing weather.
I look forward to lower AC bills, even if central heat can be just as expensive. Very thankful for the modern conveniences. Not sure I would have made a good pioneer. I prefer my backlit tablet over candlelight.
Fall always signals the beginning of another school year. I taught for so long, the school schedule is deeply ingrained in my psyche. Spring cleaning rarely happens at my house. It always waits until summer, and with my first book release, it will have to wait longer.
We hadn’t seen much of our grandsons because of their school schedule, so I especially enjoyed keeping them on a recent Saturday morning. David, the oldest, had a sinus-y cough and mostly wanted to veg in front of the TV, but Emmitt, the seven-year-old, bounced around, wanting something to do. I was making soup, and suddenly “needed” his help. He cut up celery, carrots, and sausage. Mr. Picky Eater ate more sausage than he cut, with no objection from me. He added water to a partial jar of pizza sauce and shook it up. He enjoyed adding the spices and stirring the pot.
Later we built mini-shelters with Jenga blocks and made a team of paper helicopters for rescue and medivac purposes. Two great big ones turned into tornadoes that created the need. Our favorite was the “mosquito chopper”, a feisty little one that regularly saved the day.
It impressed the boys when I showed them a copy of Countin’ On Jesse. They liked my name and picture on the book cover, but they liked my new trike just as much. I’ve dubbed it the Purple Turtle. It takes me all around the neighborhood in grand style. Actually, it provides more of a workout than my multi-speed two-wheeler, and it’s safer too. I finally conceded my balance isn’t what it used to be—and to my husband, who wasn’t a fan of the close calls I had on my old bike. It isn’t the same, but I look forward to riding in cooler weather.
Just as seasons change, the seasons of our lives change too. If you listen/watch the news at all, it doesn’t require much brain power to know the world is changing—fast. Not for good either. The problems seem overwhelming.
In all the upheaval—earthquakes, floods, fires, wars, and rumors of war—my hope is in the God who is always and forever the same. I could spend an eternity and not plumb the depths of His majesty. He’s a mystery, but that’s perfectly alright. He wouldn’t be much of a God if my finite mind could understand Him. It’s enough to know He loves me and made a way for me to be with Him.
Just a whisper of His presence is like the first breath of fall—I’m all in.