“Autumn…the year’s last, loveliest smile” (William Cullen Bryant).

“At no other time (than autumn) does the earth let itself be inhaled in one smell, the ripe earth; in a smell that is in no way inferior to the smell of the sea, bitter where it borders on taste, and more honeysweet where you feel it touching the first sounds. Containing depth within itself, darkness, something of the grave almost” (Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters on Cezann).

“Her pleasure in the walk must arise from the exercise and the day, from the view of the last smiles of the year upon the tawny leaves and withered hedges, and from repeating to herself some few of the thousand poetical descriptions extant of autumn–that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste and tenderness–that season which has drawn from every poet worthy of being read some attempt at description, or some lines of feeling” (Jane Austen, Persuasion).

I realize that it’s not officially Autumn until September 22 at 10:29 EDT (according to a website I found via Google). But it sure felt like it today.

It wasn’t cold or chilly, at least by my standards, but it was definitely cooler and there was an aroma of Autumn in the air. I’ve always thought that each season has a distinct odor to it.

I don’t know why Fall makes me nostalgic or why it conjures up so many childhood memories for me. It also reminds me of all those I’ve loved who aren’t here anymore.

I did my pilgrimage to Franklin where I had my Bangers and Mash at McCreary’s Irish Pub, sat outside of Frothy Monkey with my coffee-nated beverage and my Jan Karon book, and walked around in the almost-Autumnal air. It was lovely.

I hope there are hayrides and bonfires and pumpkin spice beverages in my future. Maybe even a corn maze. I hope there are plenty of brisk days where I can make good use of my flannel shirts and light jackets.

Thank you, God, for the quiet of Autumn and the reminder that after every Autumn and Winter there comes a Spring.

I read this earlier and thought it was spot-on, as Mr. Lewis himself might have put it:

“I believe, to be sure, that any man who reaches Heaven will find that what he abandoned (even in plucking out his right eye) has not been lost: that the kernel of what he was really seeking even in his most depraved wishes will be there, beyond expectation, waiting for him in ‘the High Countries’. In that sense it will be true for those who have completed the journey (and for no others) to say that good is everything and Heaven everywhere. But we, at this end of the road, must not try to anticipate that retrospective vision. If we do, we are likely to embrace the false and disastrous converse and fancy that everything is good and everywhere is Heaven.

But what, you ask, of earth? Earth, I think, will not be found by anyone to be in the end a very distinct place. I think earth, if chosen instead of Heaven, will turn out to have been, all along, only a region in Hell: and earth, if put second to Heaven, to have been from the beginning a part of Heaven itself” (C. S. Lewis).

Yep. What he said.

Every year on this day, I see all these posts with #weremember and #neverforget in relation to the horrific events that occurred on September 11, 2001.

But we forget the other 364 days of the year. At least I do. Outside of every September 11 that rolls around, I very seldom think of that day, even though I will always be able to remember vividly that day, where I was, what I was doing, even what was going through my mind.

That’s our way. We move on. And that’s not a bad thing. We can’t forever live in the past fixated on one day for the rest of our lives.

But then again, I didn’t lose anyone on that day. I didn’t lose a parent or a child. I didn’t know anyone who died on that day.

For those people, every day is a daily reminder of what they’ve lost that they’ll never get back.

I do believe that Jesus teaches that those who suffer loss for the Kingdom will one day reap a thousand times what they enlost. That’s the beauty of God’s economy– nothing good and beautiful is ever wasted.

When bad things happen, I remember that God is still good and can still turn even those bad events into something good.

“I look up at the vast size of the mountains—
from where will my help come in times of trouble?
The Eternal Creator of heaven and earth and these mountains
will send the help I need.

He holds you firmly in place;
He will not let you fall.
He who keeps you will never take His eyes off you and never drift off to sleep.
What a relief! The One who watches over Israel
never leaves for rest or sleep.

The Eternal keeps you safe,
so close to Him that His shadow is a cooling shade to you.
Neither bright light of sun
nor dim light of moon will harm you.

The Eternal will keep you safe
from all of life’s evils,
From your first breath to the last breath you breathe,
from this day and forever” (Psalm 121)

When was the last time you were in a place where you were completely still and silent? When was the last time you actually had the time to be still and silent.

You and I live in a media-drenched culture that assaults us at every turn with noise of every kind. The last thing you’ll hear in any ad is a pitch to go somewhere and just sit there and be quiet.

The PTBs (Powers That Be) will tell you to go buy more, do more, exercise more, drink more, have sex more, spend more, travel more . . . anything and everything but sitting in silence. Egads. How will that help boost the economy?

Jesus took time to withdraw to quiet places. If He thought it was important, I think you and I should, too. He left the multitudes and went away for solitude. That flies in the face of everything that any success guru would ever tell you, but Jesus did it anyway. Maybe He knew something we don’t

Sidenote: you will never ever have time for anything unless you make time. And you will absolutely make time for those things (and people) that are truly important to you. End of story.

We weren’t made to endure noise 24/7. We need quiet. We need solitude and silence, if only to create space into which God can speak.

I need to do better at being silent and still. For those in our studio audience who are me and have a hard time being still, it’s something you have to train yourself to do. Like playing a piano or riding a bike, you have to practice solitude.

If you want to know all about solitude as a Christian discipline, read the fantastic book, Celebration of Discipline by Richard Foster. Or just about anything by Henri Nouwen or Brennan Manning.

Here endeth the lesson.

I met my friend as usual at Radnor Lake State Park and we did our usual hike of Ganier Ridge, which is not for the faint of heart or weak of calf muscle. It’s considered a difficult trail.

The weather was somewhere between summer and autumn-esque. I wouldn’t have minded it being a few degrees cooler, but it was close enough for me.

I saw a grand total of 8 turkeys, 4 deer, and 2 squirrels. No raccoons this time.

I forgot how it starts getting dark earlier this time of year. By the time we finished the trail, it was approaching nightfall. I felt like Bilbo Baggins trekking through Mirkwood forest on the way to the Lonely Mountain to face the dragon and win back the gold he stole. Except Mr. Baggins most likely didn’t trip over as many tree roots as I did.

It was lovely. For me, Radnor Lake is like hitting the refresh button on my soul. I release all the stress from all the minor hiccups in my day and breathe in real fresh air. I can actually hear myself think there.

I remember that those people who seek the blessings and look for joy are the ones who see God everywhere. They see evidences of His handiwork all around them.

Today I choose joy.

I’ve been reading a very thought-provoking book entitled Missional Communities: The Rise of the Post-Congregational Church by Reggie McNeal. It opened my eyes.

It’s not about how the traditional congregation-centered churches are bad. The point is that a growing segment of the American population will never have anything to do with this kind of church.

The author promotes missional communities, groups of people who go to where people live, work, and play to integrate themselves into the lives of these people and not look at them as potential recruits for their church, but as people to build relationships with. Only the author says it much better than that.

The idea is to have groups that aren’t doing Bible studies for the sake of doing Bible studies but are ministering to the specific needs of their communities and being Jesus to the lost and unchurched people around them.

Ultimately, these groups seek to take the church back to her roots, away from being building- and program-centered to being house-centered and heavily involved in the surrounding neighborhoods, where those early believers weren’t afraid to get their hands dirty taking care of those that no one else would touch.

I thought the book was well written. It was definitely more descriptive than prescriptive, describing several examples where churches are implementing these missional communities effectively.

I give this book 5 stars because it has a good beat and you can dance to it.

I’m home after 8 days of house- and dog-sitting. My cat Lucy sure was glad to see me.

I have a few lessons I learned from that experience, as well as a few I picked up over the weekend:

1) The first time I took care of these dogs, one dog wouldn’t come near me and barked at me nearly the whole time I was there. This time, she didn’t bark and even put her little doggie head on my chest while I was watching TV.

It would have been so very easy the first time to label her as an unfriendly dog and write off my losses. But something inside me told me she just needed some love and understanding.

It’s just as easy to write people off. Especially after a bad experience or two. But experience has taught me to give these people a chance. Some of them have turned out to be some of the best people I know.

2) Sometimes the best thing for a headache is a nap. Even if that nap leaves you disoriented for a bit. Still, that’s better than the headache.

3) Home is good. After being away for 8 days, it feels good to be in my own bed with my own cat sleeping on the pillow next to me. Nothing beats that.

That’s all I have for now. Maybe I’ll think of others later and share them at some point.

I’ve discovered the joys of Pandora radio at work. It makes the day so much better.

I love the part where you can pick an artists and the website will play music by similar artists in that same genre.

I picked Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, Frank Sinatra, and Nat King Cole. As expected, I got a seriously old-school playlist. My grandmother would definitely have approved.

It was a nice change of pace, hearing classic artists singing those classic songs that never go out of style. I almost felt like I needed to be wearing a fedora.

I’ve may have mentioned it before, but music is my love language. I have songs or snippets of songs running through my head all of the time. Literally. And by literally, I mean it as in the literal sense of literal.

I heard Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, Sarah Vaughn, Michael Buble, Louis Armstrong, and many many others. Now I sound like one of those Time-Life infomercial.

I’m not saying all the new music is crap, but I personally like to go old-school from time to time. Sometimes even country. 😳

I’m writing this on my iPad sitting in a Starbucks. I have my pumpkin spice latte, tall, and I’ve been watching Barefoot in the Park, based on a Neil Simon play.

By my count, that makes me at least 15% hipster. Maybe 20%.

I was thinking today on why autumn is my favorite season. Of course, there are the usual suspects: leaves ablaze in color, crisp breezes and chilly weather, hayrides, bonfires and — of course– pumpkin spice everything.

But for me there’s one more. Fall means that three good holidays are coming. Those are Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. When that first autumn breeze hits my face, I know those three are within reach.

I also have lots of happy childhood memories tied up with fall. Except for raking leaves. That’s not one of them. I don’t know why, but autumn always seems to trigger memories of people and places long gone. Not sad memories, but happy ones.

Plus, there’s no humidity in fall, which after this summer is a very good thing.

I suppose most of all autumn is a reminder that one season inevitably follows another. First autumn, then winter will come. Then spring.

Just like I can be sure that while this creation groans and yearns for deliverance, Eternal Spring is coming where Hope becomes Reality and Joy truly springs eternal.

There’s also hot chocolate.