A sense of urgency

October is such a beautiful time of year here in Michigan.  The deciduous trees arrive at the peak of their fall color and then lose their leaves entirely by the end of the month.  What starts as the most colorful month of the year ends up looking like the start of November: bleak, cold, with a celebration of death right at the end.

I'm filled with a sense of urgency.  There is so much to be done before the cold comes for good; so much beauty to see before it's gone, and only a few more precious warm days to enjoy.  I consider how much time I've wasted earlier in the year, sitting at this computer instead of being outside in the sun. 

And of course, being me, I find that my feelings related to everything in my life.  I wonder if I've spent enough time and energy on my children.  Are they learning what they will need for life on their own?  Am I noticing those little signs that they need help or attention?  Am I being a thoughtful, loving wife? 

Time is short, and the older I get, the more I feel a sense of urgency.  "If it needs to be done, do it now!" I tell myself.  "You'll forget or your feelings will change."  I feel pulled in so many different directions, both from inside and by others.  It's easy to feel confused and disabled by lack of focus or direction.

And then something small will happen, some little thing that I notice will snap it all into focus.  Maybe it's something as small as the new moon floating in the sunset just behind a late October tree.  If the leaves were full, I wouldn't be able to see it from this perspective. 

There is a season for everything, a time for new life and a time to die.  But life lost never leaves a gap.  If the old didn't move out of the way, the new would never have a chance to live.  If the flower didn't die, we would never have the fruit. 

None of these ideas are new, they're just what has been floating around in my head while I mourn the death of the summer season.  How I love the sun! But the sun isn't leaving.  It is still up there, though sometimes behind the clouds.  And winter is lovely as well, with it's blanket of snow.  The sadness of last season's end prepares me to accept the joys of the winter to come.