Autumn: a season of change and a metaphor for our lives. Autumn offers us the vibrancy of bright colors. But it also leads us to let go. How do we embrace the changes that come with the autumn of life?
The following is a text version of this blog.
The cherry tree in my front yard is always the first to start changing. Slowly, the leaves turn from green to yellow. As they wilt, they one by one fall to the ground. Beside the tree, the row of rose bushes continues to blossom with vibrant flowers. But if you look closely, the leaves on the rose bushes are changing, too. The bright green has become muted. Dark edges appear. Those leaves are also beginning to fall.
The early signs of autumn are appearing in my yard. Over the next few weeks, leaves will change from green to yellow to brown. By November, the trees will be bare. Autumn. It’s a season of change. It’s also a metaphor for our lives.
I grew up in Pennsylvania. When I think of autumn, I think of maple trees in the yard that turned vibrant red. There were also white birch trees that became golden yellow. And chestnut trees with their deep mustard yellow. Autumn was full of color. In Atlanta, the colors aren’t as rich, but the change is noticeable. Each year it surprises me that while the weather remains hot and humid, the colors of autumn still mark the changing season.
More than any other season, autumn leads me to think about change. It’s a change that has to do with completion. The change of autumn is different from the change of spring. In the spring, I welcome the change because it’s a sign of life, of hope, and of new possibilities. But autumn is the end of the cycle. It’s about moving toward an ending and letting go.
In the spring of life, in young adulthood, we look ahead trusting our dreams, believing that only good things will come our way. Whatever our dreams may be, we are confident that we will succeed. Yes, there are moments of doubt, but our energy pushes us toward what seems like endless possibilities.
By mid-life, the summer of our lives, we’ve had enough experience to know that things don’t always come easy. In the heat of the summer, we become more aware of the limitations around us. Perhaps for some, there’s been a drought as some dreams have withered or perhaps even scorched earth. But there is the possibility of adjusting our dreams, finding some shade in the sun, and planning for what may now seem possible. It may not be as grand as we thought as young adults, but there’s a future ahead.
In autumn, there’s another change of perspective. Most of our lives have now been lived. For some, it’s the time of retirement. For others, it’s a transition to work differently. Whatever the case, there’s another appraisal of life. It didn’t turn out the way we thought it would in the spring of our lives. Was it bad? Or was it good? When we’re honest we come to understand that it was neither good nor bad but it was a bit of both. Life can be ambiguous. From that ambiguity, we wonder if our efforts were worth it.
In autumn, it’s not that life is over. But autumn is another transition. In time, we’ll experience a hidden life as the cold of winter comes our way. But for now, we can walk briskly in the forest, kick at the piles of leaves, and find joy in the change. Yet, we recognize what the change signifies. In our youth, we thought we were limitless. And now, we sense the fragility of our lives and of life itself.
Autumn is a time of change and transition. Of course, people don’t like change. Transition is always unnerving. Yet, there is a gift, a grace to be found in transitions. It’s those transitional times in life that allow us to assess where we are and make some decisions about where we are going. This autumn, more than most, I can feel the transition. I can’t say that I welcome it. But I’m not running from it. It’s another important stage along the way. For now, I’ll keep watch as the leaves of the cherry tree out my window turn yellow and fall.
Rev Dr Kavar,
Oh yes I am experiencing the autumn of my life. A few weeks ago I got a knee replacement. A little over a year ago I lost my sister to dementia. Over the last few years many of the friends I had known for decades passed away and before that I lost my husband to cancer. However, I try and remember that although my deceased friends can’t be replaced, friendships can be expanded and moving into a 55+ community helped me find people who share common interests. The loss of my husband has been harder, but I try and am so thankful he was in my life. As to the aches and pains (and knee – an extra ouch) well I can get around and do things and remember that I am still active. I can help others also because I have time to do and time to listen.
Finally, because there have been people, you are one, who have had an influence in my life, and who have helped my over some of life rough spots. I am so very fortunate.
My best wishes for you and yours,
Mary: I hope that you are recovering well from the surgery. The rehab can take time. One of the challenges of aging is the loss of those close to us. It’s not just that they die, but with them goes the intimacy, memories, and companionship we shared with them. While we can build new friendships, they aren’t built on the same shared experiences. But we move forward and, with grace, find beauty in our lives each day. Lou