“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” — Ecclesiastes 3:1
At the garden centre yesterday, I had a complaint. I didn’t verbalise it of course, just played the conversation out in my head. It sent me into a vacant haze, the cashier had to snap me out of it to get me to pay. “£18.95 mate. Mate, £18.95!”
Here’s the gripe. I went in thinking about the barren looking potting shelf and empty pot by our front door; how I’d make it look all autumny and magnificent for under twenty quid, a Yorkshireman’s autumnal dream. It was a nice thought to bounce around — I was getting quite creative in my thinking and making some progress when my mind was hijacked by Christmas. Just after I left the perennials sales section I stumbled into Santa’s grotto. It was in full flow, complete with a small forest of fake trees and a carol singing bear.
I’ve not really let go of summer yet, it was touch and go between flip flops and trainers when I left the house and yet Christmas is here, right in my face. I started wondering if they had Easter eggs ready to roll out.
I genuinely love autumn. A run under crisp blue skies watching your breath escape. A walk into the woods that’s like disappearing into a painting. Getting proper cosy in front of the TV with a full bodied glass of red. All good stuff.
It looks like I might need to fight for it. I might have missed it already!
You see, Christmas is coming… and Easter… and the summer holiday I need to get booked… and a million other life admin things that no app in the world can resolve. I might sneak in a toffee apple and a sparkler, but that won’t touch the sides of my cosy autumn slow down needs.
I want to watch a slow falling leaf and crunch it underfoot. I want the frosty antifreeze scented car starting mornings. An explosive bonfire night. I need a week in a hut in Sweden making an autumn wreath, a hut with a hot tub, a hot tub that overlooks a family of mountain deer. I don’t care what the cost is.
I might have gotten carried away there. I’ve just checked online and autumn wreath making in Sweden is actually a thing! Not a cheap thing, but a thing.
I may have set the bar too high, it’s easily done — who’s got time to watch a leaf fall — or disappear into a painting? Besides, the Sweden thing is too much money.
It’s often the case that we get swallowed up by the next big thing and place all our hopes for meaning in it and the more in-between moments in life, like autumn. Moments we know we really should cherish, get rushed past or given up on.
We have millions of autumn-like moments in life. Romantic date nights that get squeezed. Shorter than needed conversations with kids in the car. They get rushed past, given up on because they’re not perfect, the bar is so high. It’s easier to pin our hopes on the next big thing. Christmas will be here soon or Easter or a holiday. One of them will cut it.
Autumn is our reminder that God gives all the seasons, even the in-between imperfect ones; where things look like they’re falling and withering in front of our eyes — are part of his plan and in his hands.
One of the beautiful quirks of Jesus’ ministry was how frequently the magnificent thing happened on the way to the actual thing, going up to Jerusalem for Passover or to meet the chief Rabbi. It was often on the road in-between the imperfect that he did some of his best stuff.
This autumn, if you can, take time to watch the leaf fall and your breath escape. Make a wreath and tart up the front of your house. It’s all God’s gift.
But know, if you don’t have time and your best efforts are a bit of an imperfect blur. It was God who gave you that too.
“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” — Ecclesiastes 3:1
Ash Gibson, Pastor, Christchurch Xscape
