a statement on the frailty of life

There is a brief, fleeting, and perfect period of weather in Georgia each year right about now. 

The air smells fresh and renewed, as if it is just as relieved for the decline in humidity and the ability to move about more freely.

The leaves have not yet fallen and they play a sweet symphony that can only be compared to the lull of crashing waves. 

It is absolutely the grandest time to be a Georgian. It may be the reason I still live in Georgia–all of it’s appeal wrapped up into a few short months where the sun, the breeze, the trees, and humidity all team up to perform the most transcendent, cascading melody of seasonal love…ever.

Yesterday was one of those days…and it just so happened to also be the first day of Autumn.

::cue completely inappropriate, child-like, over-the-top, freakishly awesome, happy dance::

I LOVE AUTUMN. 

There. I said it. I love everything about it. I love the playful fall of brightly colored leaves, their vibrant beauty not yet signifying the death that is actually occurring within them. I love all things pumpkin. Though I just recently read an article that made Starbucks’ acclaimed Pumpkin Spice Latte not such a favorable pick health wise, I still cannot help myself. I love pulling out my cognac boots, over-sized sweaters, and, oh! The scarves! Don’t even get me started on the scarves. 

I live for scarf season. It’s true. Don’t judge me. (Or do…it doesn’t matter because scarves.)

And I love the smells. The apple! The sweet potato! The pumpkin! 

I’ve tried to figure out how anyone could not get an insta-happy-boost during Fall…my brain cannot comprehend such.

~~~~~~~

I spent much of the day outside yesterday for the obvious reason that it was so freaking beautiful. 

Post yoga session and porch swinging with my grandmother, the crazy, large, farm animals and I were taking a walk when, out of nowhere, I heard the roar of jets coming from the North (okay, truly…this is the directionally challenged here. This is the girl who says “Never Eat Soggy Waffles” every time she is approaching I-285. But naming a direction sounds better for the story. Writer’s prerogative.)

I heard this sound coming from the North and stopped dead in my tracks to locate the source. I eventually saw what could only have been two planes coming for Dobbins Air Reserve Base. As I watched them fly over what used to be my great grandmother’s home, with the gigantic, full, oak tree in the front yard, soar over the field filled with new baby sheep and goats, and then disappear over my grandmother’s house, I had a haunting thought. 

With all that has been going on with ISIS in the middle east (and my general over-exposure to the new lately), I couldn’t help but wonder… “what if this was it? What if this was the moment that I watched my home be bombed and the ensuing of war break out?”

Isn’t that terrible? I like to believe that is a far cry from actually happening and, before you get carried away, let me assure you this is no political statement, however…it’s still a possibility. 

This is not a political statement. It is a statement on the frailty of life.

Last week, in one night, I celebrated both the birth of one of my favorite nine-year-olds and the departing of my cousin to army boot camp. It was a weird night. I laughed as I watched kids dance around and scream and play…then, two hours later, I prayed over friends and family as they cried at the unknown future of our soldier. And this week my great aunt passed away.

No one expects chaos. Or pain. Or trouble. Or heartache. 

No one wakes up and knows, “this is the day when everything changes,” or that it’s the day that will forever shape their future. 

Our responsibility as beings living and breathing and {hopefully} enjoying this life is to do just that…enjoy. Don’t take it for granted. (Am I repeating myself?)

Moments before I heard the planes looming overhead, I had been sitting with my grandmother. When I say she is small-minded I do not mean that as an insult, it is simply the way she is. She grew up in the country in small town north Georgia. It is the way it is. She was asking about work and when I would be getting in for the night. When I told her “late,” she asked me if it didn’t scare me coming in so late? (I cannot tell you how many times we have had this conversation.)

A conversation ensued about the dangers of the world and how scary it is “out there.” 

It’s true. She’s right. It is scary. I pondered planes bombing our pasture for goodness’s.

But…living in fear is no way of living at all. 

A Spanish proverb says, “A life lived in fear is a life half-lived.” A life survived would be better put I believe.

Today’s manifesto, an ode to Autumn and living in this moment of enough…

“I
want to cultivate a deep sense of gratitude, of groundedness, of
enough, even while I am longing for something more. The longing and
the gratitude, both. I’m practicing believing that God knows more
than I know, that he sees what I can’t, that he’s weaving a
future I can’t even imagine from where I sit this morning.
Extraordinary, indeed. More than enough.” 

(Shauna Niequist, Bread &
Wine)