Teach us to count our days; that our hearts may find wisdom. Psalm 90:12
Autumn is coming. I can feel it in the morning air; a crispness is there that hints of cooler air. I love this time of year: this end of summer not yet fall time. I love way the days warms up and the evenings cool down. I love the blueness of the sky, and the hints of the coming changes, barely noticeable. I love the activity of the squirrels: watching their frantic scurrying, climbing and digging.
Since autumn is the one season in which I actually enjoy the outdoors, I find myself making excuses to go outside. I always feel compelled to make the most of these days because, in my mind, they are the best days of the year. The growing edges of my spirit tell me that all my days have the potential to be "best days." And I am reminded of a former octogenarian parishioner whose standard reply to "Have a nice day," was always, "Any day on this side of the dirt is a nice day."
The truth is my best days are days when I take time to appreciate the gift of beauty that creation produces every day. My best days are when I let myself be distracted by a breeze, a flower, or a child's laughter. My best days are when I listen to my inner kid and do something fun "for no good reason." Something about the coming of autumn encourages me to this place. It is my prayer that I will learn the secret path to this place in every season. Kym+