Refined Purveyors of Fine Goods

in the falling

In the falling; of leaves, of our bodies when we are young and just learning to walk, falling and again standing. In the dying, of the green, of the flora, of the old, to make way for the new, or so they say; but, if you are anything like me, it’s hard idea to grasp. That letting go of one good thing for a new good thing is the order of things. Sure this season is beautiful, each and every one is in its own right, but the ache, the birth of new life that change brings isn’t always easy. To watch things die, to watch them change, to say goodbye, to life and those we love, to old seasons of life to make way for the next, brings about a bit of a melancholy; a bit of longing. You can’t quite put a finger on it or make a name that describes it. It’s just an innate part of who you are.

A pastor in church said the other day that we must discipline our thoughts or they will discipline us; I heard that hard. The truth of it, felt deep. My thoughts are wanders. They go deep and wide, searching and aching to know and to understand. They seek to make sense of the goings on of a lifetime. However, some things simply are. The order of things ARE simply because they ARE, and it is good, simply because the God that created it all is good. Can’t I just rest in that? Can’t I just reign my thoughts in like a wild, unruly young horse, and direct them toward the source of thoughts himself? I’ve sought long and hard, far and wide, believing that possibly the deeper meaning of things lied without of creation and it’s creator. This searching has led to the fact of things: there is no deeper intellect, no more peaceful spirituality, no greater wisdom than that found in the very creator of thought himself. Love is the greatest of these.

“And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. ” Eph. 3:18.

So from one undisciplined thinker to another; one melancholic to her cohort, my prayer is that we can let things fall where they may, let them die when the time comes. May we lean into all that it has to teach us, the gold that is to be unearthed from the season. And may we pray and write and drink hot drinks and eat good food and laugh with the our people, and hold dear the things that we hold dear, and remember that it’s all a gift; and may the aforementioned help us to reason with it all.

Happy season of fall, loves!

Abbey

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