“I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”
Anne Shirley was on to something here. I woke up early this morning, had my cup of cream and coffee, and was settling in on the couch, recording the date in my notebook when I thought about this quote.
Ari spent last night “camping” with grandparents, so Ira and I had a quiet trip to the thrift store this morning. We picked up a few trinkets to bring a little warmth into our new home this fall season: wooden candle sticks, a basket, a wooden recipe box, some winter clothes.
We returned home and had an early lunch. He napped while I cleaned counters of the remaining sourdough tortillas he helped me make this morning. I boiled water for tea, then headed to the attic for the daily two pages of writing and some reading.
When he woke up we waited in the front yard for Oma and Papa. We piled in their car, picked up daddy, and heading to a small pumpkin patch in the mountains for a change of scene. It rained on us as we pulled in to the drive and had to stall our train ride by a few minutes. The only one really upset about this was the loud three-year-old in the backseat.
All in all, it was a great first day of fall in my book. Because in my book fall begins October 1st.
And all day long I kept thinking, “God made a world where Octobers exist. He didn’t have to, but He did.”
Tolkien talks about an aspect of faerie being the recognition that something existing in the natural world – a tree thick with acorns – and recognizing that it didn’t actually have to be made that way. The faerie element lies in the reimagining, sub-creation, I believe he calls this. Instead of acorns in the tree, God could have created a tree that produces hanging lanterns each night at dusk, closing and receding in the morning twilight. He didn’t, but He could have.
But God, when ordering the Universe, planned the rhythms of October into our year. Maybe He didn’t have this exact name for it in mind. He calls them seasons, I suppose? Now this is just presumption. I’ll ask Him one day.
Needless to say, He could have made the world full of emerald Mays or gray Januarys. But He didn’t. He considered our form and brought about the autumnal season of October. He knows we are creatures. He know we enjoy mugs of hot syrupy-goodness, the warmth of fires, sweet treats that grow on trees (truly, this is miraculous when you think more than a moment about it!), darker, stormier days, retreating indoors for a season, and one pot meals shared over full tables.
What does this say about the Inventor of October?
I was reminded of how well He knows me. How creative He is. How generous and gracious. How good He is to give me a whole season, every single year, where I can revel in scarves, sweaters, blankets, long socks, and jackets. He knows we humans need a change of scene, something we aren’t often quick enough to give ourselves to keep plugging away.
This reminds me of how I don’t have to share extra chocolate chips with my little boys when they’re baking with me, but I do. Does this seem trivial to you? Do you think the treasured chocolate candy is trivial to my children? I hope not.
God didn’t have to create such a delightful season, but He did. For me and you to enjoy.
In Christ
In the Marginalia 