I know I haven’t written in almost a year… that’s all I have to say about that. 


I like September.

It probably goes without saying that I like New England in September. I loved Fall in Missouri and Tennessee and Alabama, too, but Fall in Connecticut is a different category altogether.  September is the start, the slow fade at the tippy tops of trees. The maples in my yard are beginning that whispery-rustle of dropping leaves. September is the first hint of October’s brilliance.

I like the kids going back to school for a million reasons, namely this one: I’m by myself! Introverted me can hear my own thoughts, finish an entire task, choose my own adventure quiet moment. Geeky me can do ALL the nifty organizing and planning. But I also enjoy the process of choosing 1st day outfits and cleaning up the book bags and color-coding the calendar with school dates and activities. not everyone does that? what? weird. 

I like the new schedule, or the return of any schedule at all after summer lazily drifts by. The beginning of this season feels sweet and fresh. I like the chance it gives me to think about what’s important to me- where do I need a new routine? What do I need to work on, change, grow, or leave behind?  Note to self: leave behind Netflix binges on the couch, work on folding the laundry before the sock drawers are empty.

I like the transitional weather. Just past the heat of summer, before the bite of Winter hits the air. My favorite outfit is shorts with long-sleeves, which is a September staple. Cool mornings, warm afternoons, evenings outdoors by the fire pit… good, good, good.

I like that we celebrate our wedding anniversary in September. We remember the promise we made with our family and friends surrounding us, the bread and the wine (and the spider) and the rings and the kiss…


But I’ve cried more in September than most other months put together. Not just this year; as I look back, there has been a lot of sadness, grieving, fear, confusion, and pain in September. I’ve cried with friends, with family, with our nation, and by myself year after year at this time.

It has been a record month for loss and heartache over the years, and I don’t know how to hold that in tension with the fact that I just plain enjoy September.

It feels like too much- to remember the life and grieve the death of a beloved matriarch, but also to gather in celebration with the family she created and laugh together as her youngest great-grandchild happily smashes birthday cake and gives frosting covered grins. The first year and the last moment overlapping- a family circle.

It really is too much- to ache over and over for the friends carrying unimaginable sorrow and fear into this season, but to also look forward to these days with freedom to gather friends for coffee and conversation and laughter. Friendship in sacred moments of joy and sadness.

Too much- to remember the phone call, the diagnosis, the frightening and uncertain future, but to also savor the smell of fallen leaves in this morning’s misty rain and love the feel of September as I run.

It’s too much to cry and laugh in the same hour, sometimes the same breath.

September is too much, but I can’t help but like it.




walking in a thin place


these days i wish i was a photographer- an artist gifted to capture the meaning of color, speak the language of light and shadow. i walk down the same roads and trails daily. i try to memorize each branch and leaf, but everything is constantly shifting with the progression of Autumn and the sun’s movement through the sky.

the morning is clear and cool. sunlight floats in the haze over fields of dewy, fading wildflowers. i tuck my hands inside my sleeves, search for the sunny side of every road to warm my cheeks and nose.  the smell of Fall is different in these early hours – more clean grass and air, less fallen leaf and dirt.


the afternoon shoots sunbeams like arrows through changing leaves- the greens are breathtaking, though less lauded this time of year. they shine quietly and then graciously yield to the brilliance of the much anticipated Fall Color.

evening brings a soft light angling across the grass and filters into my windows. just before sunset, the maples lining our driveway ring out like vesper bells- the perfect note to end the day. they invite me to sing along with them.

and i want to sing- to laugh out loud as i run into that light, arms open, face upturned to feel those final drips of warmth- joining the trees’ chorus as the sun disappears with a sigh behind the mountain. can i breathe in the life of these moments? can i capture it? can i feast on this air and light so it is in me, so it is mine?


i take a picture with my phone- a feeble attempt to hold onto all the glory. it doesn’t work. even as i see the image in my hand, it is falling away- leaving me behind.

i can’t hold it.

why do i feel this urgency to grab the beauty of this moment- to possess it? to inhale this feeling with deep, gulping breaths? it’s as if this golden, glowing day belongs to me- belongs in me- and it has escaped. i can’t breathe in enough, can’t soak in enough to recover it, but i know it’s mine.

it is mine. i know i’m created for this exact instant, this place. these are moments, even in my fragile state, that i am with God. i’m made to be here with Him. and this is how He reminds me of who i really am.


the path is soft with fallen pine needles and all around is a celebration of turning leaves. they are swishing and clapping for me, and i remember that rain of rose petals as we ran together, bride and groom, laughing and holding hands.

i smile and raise my face toward the Light, bright leaves falling all around me, decorating the trail like the aisle before the bride…  is it You? is that why i want this so deeply?

and He says, “yes, My Beloved.”