It’s a harvest moon on my dad’s birthday, but I forget to call. I wake up with a cold and trudge on in to work, dragging slow through the hospital halls. The sky drips rain on-and-off all day and when the evening comes, I’m looking out the window for that full round face. She hides from me and the next day, when I remember what I forgot, I don’t blame her one bit. I make the call a day late, which, for my family, isn’t too bad; but I think this ruefully—wondering why old habits are so hard to let go of.
Later, when I take the boys to their evening lessons, I fill little Jeffrey in on how his Pap is doing.
“When we were saying goodbye,” I tell him. “I wanted to tell Pap so bad that I love him. I wanted to. But I…just didn’t.”
“Well, why didn’t you?” He wants to know. To him, love is an everyday word. It’s a word we say when we get up in the morning, a word we say when we leave each other; it’s a word we say spontaneously when the feeling flutters in our chest.
I think for a minute. How to say?
“That’s just not something we do,” I say.
“Well,” he says, with all the wisdom of a 14-year old. “Why don’t you make it something you do?”
Yesterday was the first day of autumn and I can feel the way the earth is moving. Earth’s two hemispheres receive the sun’s rays equally for a spell—night and day stand side-by-side, neither one outreaching the other. We call it the equinox—from the Latin aequus (equal) and nox (night). Only it doesn’t feel equal to me. The morning is slow in coming and evening slips down over the horizon too quickly. The sun is stingy with her light and the days bleed moments before we can wrap them up.
The birds and butterflies shed a new season as they flock southerly. But I am earthbound—no winging out of this for me.
Why don’t I make it something we do? Why don’t I make this season something new?
I’m thinking about all the ways to say “I love you” today. I’m thinking of sprouting wings. How about you? What does this new season bring for you? How would you like to make it different?
And just what is keeping you from doing it?
How do you embrace the God-joy? Every Monday I’ll be sharing one of my Playdates with God. I would love to hear about yours. It can be anything: outside, quiet time. Maybe it’s solitary. Maybe it’s loud and crowded. Just find Him. Be with Him. Grab my button at the bottom of the page and join us:
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