Autumn Joy

I decided it was time.

I had been refraining myself for weeks now, allowing only a little peek here and there.

After all, it is autumn now, right? I know the solstice or equinox, or whichever it is (I even checked my calendar for the accurate term, but it only says "Autumn Begins." That's the last time I buy a calendar with such watered-down terminology), won't happen for another week or two. But the air is crisp, the fields are golden, and although I'm itching for one last trip to the beach, I've decided to embrace the season early instead of being dragged kicking and screaming away from my shorts and swimsuits.

Maybe my readiness to embrace fall this year is because of this delayed gratification. This odd beauty at the back of my garden, the one I was certain wouldn't make it, the one I've never grown before...the one I've been pining over since August.

I twist one of the stalk and let Jack and Ava help me carefully pull back each golden layer. The three of us gleefully gasp as we finally reveal what's underneath. This autumn treasure did not disappoint. The first one is mostly a gorgeous olive green, and the second one is pink and purple. The next is a mixture of every fall color I can imagine, and the fourth is each hue in pastel. I reach for the miniture variety and peel away burgundy layers instead of golden ones, and am truly shocked at what is hidden inside - neat little rows of the deepest rust red kernals.

It's like opening presents, and it never gets old. Each one is different and each one yields equal joy.

And as I snap pictures in every possible angle and in every possible light, I begin to wonder if this is how God sees us.

He plants us and grows us and exposes us to too much rain and too much wind and high heat and not enough rain. The husks of our flesh begin to wither, and soon the cool of harvest arrives. The other garden creations wonder what's wrong with this strange plant as they boast their bright red tomatoes, majestic orange pumpkins, and luscious deep green squash.

Only God knows the stunning beauty that has been secretly developing beneath the tough and ugly exterior. Little bits of it begin to peak through the dying husks, and only God knows when it's time to peel back the layers of our self, our flesh to reveal the uniqueness below.

His eager anticipation of revealing who He's made us to be bubbles over into excitement as at last His creation is revealed. No two are the same, and although some are small and some are big and some are bold and some are pastel, each one brings Him joy.

I wonder no more. Of course this is how God feels about us. Why else would I feel such joy over something so simple if it were not a picture of how my Savior feels about me?

Oh and I remember now. It's equinox. Summer solstice and Autumnal equinox. I'll never forget.