I sat there on the log cabin porch on a quiet afternoon.
The kids were not close by, so their laughter and talking were replaced by sheer silence of the forest I was surrounded on all sides by. The tall trees were swaying and glimmering in the afternoon sun. There was a slight chill in the air, which I welcomed with open arms after such a hot Georgia summer. I am new to the fall season in Georgia, but having lived in the south for the majority of my adult years and I’m noticing a little trend in the seasonal transition this time of year.
I grew up in upstate New York—where the fall colors were (and still are) as vibrant as sunshine rays and bonfire flames mixed together and painted on each and every leaf. You could rake these fallen masterpieces into piles higher than your head and have hours of fun running and getting lost as you jumped into the crunchy, colorful leaves. I also grew up near apple orchards where the crisp, juicy apples were everywhere in the stores and anywhere you looked you saw large trucks filled with crates stuffed to the brim with apples. We’d pick or buy bushels of apples from local farmers, haul them home to then help my mom skin, cut, boil, and mash them down to make our very own applesauce. The freshly made applesauce would be eaten as soon as it cooled, and then frozen in old Cool Whip containers for the coming months.
Fall in the south feels a little different—it always catches me off guard with what I can only describe as a little delay.
I get out my pumpkin candles, cozy up in my blankets, pull out my sweaters, and add some fall decorations to my mantle—but yet outside the leaves haven’t really changed much and the weather will feel crisp one day and blazing hot the next. To me, the transition into the fall season in the south feels a little more harsh and bumpy. Maybe it was the innocence of my childhood, but the fall season always felt a little magical to me.
Now as an adult, fall feels welcomed—but also holds transition, change, and mystery along with beauty. The colors eventually change into their colorful shades, yet they always seem to show later and not nearly as vibrant than I expect them to. The cool weather FINALLY comes, yet it seems I’ve always chosen the wrong article of clothing the day it shows up and stays.
When we are longing for change to happen in our lives—what would happen if we opened our eyes to the hidden beauty of what is already happening as opposed to what will be?
Back to my particular fall afternoon—as I sit on the porch in a worn wicker chair, I feel the breeze blow through the trees and notice a few leaves performing their last dance as they slowly make their way to the ground.
They are so beautiful, I think to myself.
I am the only human around witnessing the beauty in front of me.
I just sat there and watched the same cycle of dance—the breeze whisper gently and leaves sway, swirl, spin, and twirl to the ground.
Life often feels so much like a bumpy fall transition—we long to see change, we long to see beauty. Yet, so often when changes comes—it’s subtle and the beauty could be easily missed.
In our human nature, and twenty-first century minds, we expect that our inner and outer changes should be more instant, fast-paced, and easily recognizable. We long for the struggle that has weighed us down to be lifted and forever be gone from our line of sight.
What if we’re being invited into a slower pace of change?
What if we’re being asked to slow down to notice the subtle shifts in the color of our hearts?
What if in that noticing, we’re getting the opportunity to bear witness to something miraculous?
Maybe what feels “bumpy” is just God’s timing and weaving
of a grander story to revealing His beauty already in us.
As leaves perform their last lances around us this fall season… some will flutter and fly away, others will just fall gently down under their branches—some will be seen by human eyes, others will not.
All is seen by God.
The beauty of change is not lost to Him. The subtlety that seems hidden to the world, is known by Him.
He finds beauty in your colors.
He sees how hard you’re working.
He knows the desires of your heart.
He holds the tears you cry in the dark.
He laughs alongside you in your joy.
He smiles on you with delight.
You are loved.
You are chosen.
You are never alone.
You are fearfully and wonderfully made.
Substack always offers their writers the option to open up for paid subscriptions. I know many writers on this platform offer this to their subscribers, but for me, I hope to always keep what I offer here in this space free of charge. My husband and I serve in support-based missions work in diaspora ministry, specifically in refugee care. If you want to support my writing—you could give a one-time or recurring donation to our ministry and that would be a huge blessing.
This is so beautifully written, and true for all of us. God bless you for writing!
These words are such a gift!