It is nearly the end of September - time for autumn colors and cooler weather. Yesterday turned out to be a very pleasant day, but much cooler than last week and just enough mist in the air to remind us that autumn has arrived. It is supposed to warm up today and we’ll see highs in the upper seventies before the rain sets in at the end of the week. The seasons, however, are changing. As I paddled yesterday, I wore a light jacket, but it wasn’t cold enough to require gloves. There will be many more days of paddling before the ice takes over the lake.

I’m a fan of all four seasons, and autumn has its wondrous glories. It is a season of exhilarating beauty. The yellows, golds, oranges and reds of the trees in the canyons and valleys contrast with the deep green of the pine and spruce. The grass is starting to become dormant, but there are still plenty of patches of lush green. The garden is still producing good food, but there is less to harvest. The sunflowers are turning from their brilliant display of color to the world’s best bird feeders.

There is more to this season. It is a time of decline in some ways. Some plants will die back to the earth. In a few weeks I’ll till the garden back to black dirt. The browns will take over and, in this country, lie exposed for quite a while before being covered with snow. Of course, we have been known to have early blizzards and part of the joy of living here is that the weather is able to surprise. Still, it is impossible to escape that there is a bit of dying going on. We won’t have all of the bright blossoming flowers until next spring and summer.

It is a necessary part of the cycle of life. Seeds need to fall to the ground and get buried in order to sprout next year. Leaves need to be composted to provide the nutrients that give us next spring’s green. Decay is necessary for life to continue.

But yesterday was one of those delicious days suspended between summer and autumn. It was very comfortable out doors most of the day, yet there were a few small showers to refresh the earth. And the mists hung in the hills giving them a mystery that is inviting as long as the temperatures remain warm enough for comfortable outdoor activity, which was the case yesterday. It felt as if we were riding the edge of the seasons.

Maybe I’m more sensitive to the changes because I feel some days as if I am riding on the edge of seasons. When I attend meetings such as the installation of our new conference minister last Saturday, I am aware that I am now among the elders of the conference. There are plenty of new faces and younger ministers serving our congregations. I’m no longer the one up front making the “pitch” for the latest youth event or playing my guitar for the camp songs.

Like the leaves falling to the ground, there are things in my life that need to fall away as the years go by. Some of the good work that I did in my earlier years is no longer relevant. Some of the projects that consumed my energies are completed and it is time to start new projects. Some of the relationships that were worthy of investment have disintegrated as people have moved to new places. Others have come to the end of their live’s journeys. Some times when I think about my life and work it seems as if the biggest part is now behind me. My passion for my work remains, but there are times when the sense of purpose and meaning is a bit more distant.

These bits of natural decay that come with the autumn of life, however, are also essential to the new growth that will emerge. There comes a time when it is essential for some of us to step aside and make room for the new leadership that is coming. It is right not to need to be center stage as often and to sit with other elders lending our support to new leaders.

One of the advantages of having lived a few years and weathered a few seasons is that I now am confident that possibility gets planted in us even in the most difficult of times. The days and weeks and years of grief give way to a deeper understanding and acceptance of our own mortality. Turning aside from one job pushes one to uncover true vocation. When a particular path to meaning is closed, new ways appear.

It is a basic truth of our faith, but one that we sometimes ignore: New life is always hidden in dying. Resurrection isn’t some ancient story, but a reality built into the design of the universe. And this truth is very important as we become more and more honest about our own deaths. When we are able to turn aside from the fear of dying, we discover a grace and beauty that we had not previously observed.

Perhaps standing on the edge between summer and autumn gives us a perspective that will provide meaning as we plug deeper into autumn and winter. I’m trying to remember what it feels like to be a bit too warm, with the sweat beading on my forehead. I’m trying to recall how I am sometimes impatient with having to mow the lawn so often. These will have to be stored in memory when the snows come and I am shoveling and the grass is covered with white. Being on the edge between the summer and autumn of my life gives me enough experience with the seasons to know that spring and summer will come again. Decay and beauty, darkness and light, death and life are not opposites. They are all parts of a larger and deeper meaning.

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