An October World

“I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. . . Look at these maple branches. Don’t they give you a thrill—several thrills? I’m going to decorate my room with them.”

—Anne Shirley in Anne of Green Gables

Yes, Anne... They give me several thrills, friend. I have delighted in this maple tree outside of my office turning aflame with autumn glory in the last week or so. A stiff wind and some chilly rain are likely denuding it this evening, but I'm thankful to have caught both this morning's glory (above) and a late afternoon burst of gold over the weekend (below).

How right Robert Frost was when he said, "Nothing gold can stay."

Nature’s first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

— R. F.

October has been marked by ephemeral gold, amber, and crimson leaves. By a Harry Potter songlist played over and over, and by a full moon, huge and shrouded by misty clouds. By hikes in autumn air and walks under the stars. By blueberry wine and questions about verbing out one's name, one's self. By nights watching the Anne films with Tosha, Lynnette, and David. By eating far more pumpkin and apple things than I should have. And by the reading of Emily of New Moon.

 

But in my quieter moments—though those have been too few—October has marked 14 years since Summit Semester and our fabulous Farvest Hall. Fourteen years since Amadeus in Denver, the Cheesecake Factory, and a visit to The Tattered Cover. Fourteen years since I began forging a deeper bond with Aaron, Reese, Chels, and Stephen. Sometimes in the autumn the grief hits hard, but this year the weeks have been full of friends visiting, of small group nights, of evenings talking with Nick, of films or reading or trying to catch up correspondence. 

This autumn has been happy, which has surprised me again and again. For so long I didn't expect to ever again be fully glad that it doesn't seem possible. Of course, there are sad things, hard things, even ugly things. But they feel small right now. The shadow is a passing thing and light and high beauty are beyond its reach. 

Granted, the days used to seem longer, always with room to write letters or e-mails... And now they seem ever-too-short, but the people are there in the days—real, present. No more being long-distanced from everyone (though I'm still long-distanced from too many!), now I live in a place where I have graciously been gifted a good, thoughtful, loving community—at work, at church, and with various friends.  I want to share that community as I can and as I should. And I long to hold on to quiet space and room for pouring my heart out to the Lord...and for listening to Him. It is a balance, especially when my mind is so full from each day and each week. 

I hold all of these things—beauty, community, words, gladness, truth—loosely in my slightly curled hand. Fourteen years ago life was nearly perfect, too...and then came dark, dark days. And years later, deep, dark nights for my aching soul. Seasons ebb and flow, rise and fall. There are no guarantees that either the good times or the hard times will last forever. So, I am thankful for the love, beauty, and safety I have experienced this year. 

Not knowing what any future moments or days hold, I receive the now as gift, trying to learn not to grasp (and in so doing, strangle out the life of the beautiful things God has granted). As I have just journeyed through the wilderness, the precipice injury (and many other places on the way to the High Places with Much Afraid and her companions, Sorrow and Suffering), I find that I am still trying to learn the very first letter in the Alphabet of Love: Acceptance with joy. Still, many more years down the road from the first time I read the book. Why am I still at letter one? I don't know, but it's where I find myself. So, there I will continue to try to open-handedly accept with joy, by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Nothing gold can stay...not yet, anyway. But one day, the New Kingdom will come down and marry earth. And then, perhaps, we will have an everlasting autumn (with sunflowers and daffodils, too) where gold can stay. It sounds like an October world to me, which is a deep delight to my soul!

Nurturing the Tree of Friendship (n.)

"Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more."  

—The Fox in The Little Prince1

Think for a moment of the most famous friendships in history and literature. What names come to mind? For me it is always King David and Jonathan; Frodo and Samwise; and Anne and Diana. In my own life there are nearly a dozen soul-knit friends, kindred spirits, whom God has seen fit to bring into the dark places when all other lights go out. Usually they come singly, but sometimes in pairs. Always they bring friendship in their hand like a gift

In Western culture we use the word "friend" to mean a number of relationships, from an acquaintance to a friend so close that our souls really do seem knit together, as the Scriptures say of David and Jonathan. My Kasey-friend is vastly more dear to me than my friend John, who happens to be our mailman at work. In a way, I am friends with both, and I am friendly towards both, but one can read my soul, be part of my soul, the other has no idea what the shape of my soul is. Beyond a sliding scale of what friendship means, we have social media influencing our understanding of "friends"—making a noun into a verb, and making you feel like you know a person because they update their status bar every day or every ten minutes. If I know what someone made for breakfast, the song they are listening to, and the quotation they re-posted, I still do not know their essence, their ousia, via their social media site. I know their being by living with them, working with them, arguing with them, getting sick of them, and still wanting to be around that person the very next hour or day. We learn someone's quirks, endearing habits, turns of phrase, and morals by living with them in the daily—at school, work, or home. I cannot "unfriend" my neighbour, I live with her. I cannot decide I only want to be friends when it is convenient, nor would I want my friends to treat me that way. Friendship is time-consuming and takes hard work. It is also gloriously fun, deeply personal, and enriching to one’s soul. Thus, I rebel at the co-opting of the word "friend" in social media, when its etymology is much richer: dear, beloved, to love, to woo.2 A friend is one who walks with us to Mordor, in spite of the deadly peril, believing always that we will return home together...Yet even if they lose hope that we will live beyond Mount Doom, they would never dream of leaving our side, choosing rather to carry us—and die with us if need be. A friend helps us to dream again when all our hopes have crashed to the ground. A real friend speaks truth to us when we are being snippy, selfish, or unrealistic—even at the cost of our annoyance or anger toward them at hearing that truth. We return friendship when we receive rebuke, shine the spotlight on our friend’s accomplishments—rather than seeking our own glory or downplaying theirs—and walk through the valley of the shadow in silence, hope, and companionship with them.

Said more succinctly and wisely, “Friendship is an obstetric art; it draws out our richest and deepest resources; it unfolds the wings of our dreams and hidden indeterminate thoughts; it serves as a check on our judgements, tries out our new ideas, keeps up our ardor, and inflames our enthusiasm.”3

Friendship indeed does all these things and more. Surely only a handful of these infinitely valuable and intimate are ever granted in one whole lifetime. In ninety-nine out of one hundred cases I would say that is true; but sometimes that one hundredth person is given extra gifts. I am one who has been given an abundance of these gift-friendships. I could never earn them—and I certainly do not deserve them—but I do cherish them. It is sometimes difficult for me to make enough time to maintain all of these friendships, but none of us seem to mind when there is a gap of time between calls, walks, or letters. We pick up where we left off and begin to share our hearts at some point. This does not leave much room in my life for casual “friends”—whom I would call acquaintances. Yet every now and again, I have dinner or coffee with an acquaintance because they are still a valuable person, even if I cannot invest more time with them.

What I have discerned in our culture is that many persons seem to devote much of their time to their acquaintances, leaving themselves little or no time to invest in one of those Samwise and Frodo friendships. No wonder the most common answer I receive to “How are you?” anymore is not “fine” but “busy.” Work, meetings, coffee dates, and various events—along with films, television, and internet browsing—fill up all of our waking moments until we hide beneath the covers at night.

I purposely have to pick one to two evenings a week where I have no plans, where I am not scheduled to make dinner for anyone besides myself, drive somewhere, or run errands. Mostly I end up washing dishes, writing, reading, or going for walks on these evenings. If I am free, I am able to attend to my neighbour when she has had a bad day; or call one of my friends around the country to hear about their souls. To foster intertwining, deep friendships, we must be available. We will have to attend. We must learn to see beyond the surface, seeking to know not simply “How was your day?” but “What made it good or hard?” and “How are you?” as well. We have to listen to the answer, not merely hear it.

To cultivate rich friendship, like husbanding a vineyard, there are times when we have to cut off sucker shoots. Activities, the number of acquaintances we spend time with weekly or monthly, and having our computer or phone on can be sucker shoots. It is hard work to figure out which friendships one ought to pour into. Goodness knows I have invested heavily in some unwise acquaintanceships and too long ignored some close friends. My real friends have been gracious to receive me back again, even as my heart recovers from overextending myself in short-lived comradeship.

That said, it is worth taking the risk of being friends, being vulnerable, being loyal to someone. You should be able to tell a person’s character fairly early on if you spend much time around them. Likewise, they should be able to tell if you are trustworthy and faithful. Will you keep their secrets, or will you gossip? Will you hold them when they cry? Will you share your hard moments with them? Will you drop by unexpectedly and not care if their hair is a mess and they are in their comfy clothes with holes in them? Will you let them do the same with you? Do they bring strength and beauty into your life? Do you build them up behind their backs, before their peers, and in a whisper for their ear alone? Do they make you live in reality, yet encourage you to dream? Does your soul thrill at their hopes?

Friendship is a give and take, not using someone or smothering them with affection. Friendship is made of mundane things like grocery shopping and folding laundry. It is made of looking at sunsets and stars and sharing hopes and fears. There is camaraderie in drinking tea—or coffee, if you must—and just looking at the world together, not saying much. Friendship is indeed an art, a way of life, a choice, a gift. Like all gardens and fruit trees, some friendships have their seasons and then comes the Autumn. Let them go. Cherish the friendships that are like apple trees, blossoming in Spring, green in Summer, bearing fruit in Autumn, and bare in Winter … Yet blossoming in Spring again. Cultivate those, for friendship is the tree itself. 

~ Johanna

* I am writing above about same gender friendships. Male/female friendships do not work quite the same, unless it is within the bounds or marriage. Then it is even closer and richer than anything I have known or described. It is important to have friends of both sexes, but male/female friendships outside of marriage cannot share in the same depth as male/male or female/female friendships.

** Cross-posted at Conciliar Post

_____________________

1. de Saint-Exupery, Antoine The Little Prince (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, Inc., 1971) 67
2. Friend (n.) Online Etymology Dictionary, © 2001-2014 Douglas Harper
3. Sertillanges, A. G. The Intellectual Life (Washington D. C., Catholic University of America Press, 1998) 56

Welcome, October!

OCTOBER was a beautiful month at Green Gables, when the birches in the hollow turned as golden as sunshine and the maples behind the orchard were royal crimson and the wild cherry trees along the lane put on the loveliest shades of dark red and bronzy green, while the fields sunned themselves in aftermaths.

Anne revelled in the world of colour about her. "Oh, Marilla," she exclaimed one Saturday morning, coming dancing in with her arms full of gorgeous boughs, "I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn't it? Look at these maple branches. Don't they give you a thrill...?"

~ Anne Shirley, in Anne of Green Gables (Chapter 16)

 October gives me a thrill, dressed in bright yellows,fresh greens, burnt orange, and flashes of scarlet and purple. I have driven across Colorado a good bit since October began on Tuesday -- up to Vail, and over to Maroon Bells with my parents, and I finished up the week with a hike up Raspberry Mountain, near Cripple Creek. 

The colours, the crisp air, the scent of leaves all washed me in the glory of Autumn. Truly, I think every season is bursting with God's glory, and that glory is reflected in us when we take the time to just be, to drink in the Beauty all 'round us. Perhaps it is easier for me to see the Beauty of each season because I live in the mountains and it is always beautiful here... Perhaps. But I think that one simply has to have the right eyes to see Beauty. Then one can see the glory behind every fiery bush and flaming stand of aspens, or in the dripping fog and the bent cornstalks of the Midwest. There is 'scope for the imagination' anywhere you are, and there is always Beauty to be found if you will look.

So, welcome, October. I can never have this September back, but I can have this October in its wake... And that is glory!

Trail leading up Raspberry Mountain

~ Johanna

September Days...

"What a splendid day!" said Anne, drawing a long breath. "Isn't it good just to be alive on a day like this? I pity the people who aren't born yet for missing it. They may have good days, of course, but they can never have this one."

~ Anne of Green Gables, by L. M. Montgomery -- Chapter 15

And that is precisely how I feel about this day. Oh, how thankful I am for September days!

(photo credit: mountainphotography.com)

The Queer Ache

"It's so beautiful that it hurts me," said Anne softly. "Perfect things like that always did hurt me—I remember I called it 'the queer ache' when I was a child. What is the reason that pain like this seems inseparable from perfection? Is it the pain of finality—when we realise that there can be nothing beyond but retrogression?"

"Perhaps," said Owen dreamily, "it is the prisoned infinite in us calling out to its kindred infinite as expressed in that visible perfection."

~ Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne's House of Dreams 

Autumn. Merely the word itself evokes waking to a crisp dawn, catching the scent of leaves and the tang of woodsmoke in the air. It is the time for apple cider and pumpkin bread, sweaters and long walks on clear sunny afternoons to see ochre and copper hues painting the landscape. Autumn holds some of my most cherished memories in her crinkly hands. Her cool, sunny days inspire me to study, to write, to read poetry, to dream and hope more deeply, to do new things, to bake, to dare to become fully alive. I practically skip on my walks, and prance to work. My soul cannot help feeling awake. When our souls are thus awake and aware, we are more attuned to the 'queer ache' of Beauty.

This morning I decided to take a jaunt to one of my favourite overlooks in Manitou. While collecting many shapes and shades of leaves, I wound my way up the back streets, stopping to smell the last of Summer's blooms. I stood as close to the edge of the overlook as I could. Grey clouds poured over the closest ridge of foothills, veiling the sun for a time. In the filtered light I beheld russet scrub oak, burnished aspens, deep green firs, and the majestic crest of Pikes Peak with a hoary mantle of snow.  

The pang of Beauty brought tears to my eyes, not because of what they saw, but because I felt hungry for something I cannot yet sink my teeth into. C. S. Lewis called it 'joy', Sheldon Vanauken labelled it 'Beauty', and Solomon called it 'eternity': "[God] has made everything beautiful in its time. Also He has put eternity in their hearts, except that no one can find out the work that God does from beginning to end." (Eccl. 3.11) 

Today, as I felt "the imprisoned infinite" in me calling out to the divine Infinite, I wondered if God ever feels the pang of Beauty. If we are made in His image, if Jesus came and suffered as we suffer, and we feel this ache, is it possible that He does too? Is this what the Palmist really meant when he said that "deep calls out to deep at the noise of Your waterfalls" in Psalm 42? Was he saying, "Your infinite Spirit in me calls out to the Infinite Godhead when I hear the rush of mighty waters"? Does your heart leap when you hear the chorus of many waters, or at the sweet warble of a bird in an otherwise still wood? Is it eternity (the infinite) in us resonating with the Eternal One, who is Beauty Himself?

I am inclined to believe the pain of Beauty is the infinite part of us (our spirit), longing for the Infinite Himself and a fully redeemed world. The pain comes because we are still under the curse, even if we have received the Cure.  I return to what I pondered today: does God ever feel the ache of Beauty? I am tempted to say, "Surely not, He is the Infinite our spirit longs for, after all".  Yet when I began to ponder this earlier, I wondered if the pain we feel in yearning for God (the Beautiful) Himself is akin to what He feels when He holds out His arms to us and we walk away (Isaiah 62.2-3). It is as if the Infinite calls out to the eternity, or infinite, in our hearts and we turn away. Surely that is as wounding as longing for the Infinite, but being unable to enter fully into that Infinity. 

This is speculation on my part, as God is not a fallen human and does not come at things in a broken manner. I am still learning to think His thoughts after Him, rather than assuming He thinks like I do. I am still being healed of my brokenness, He has never been 'broken' in the sense of being fallen. What I do know is that the more attuned I am to let Beauty lead me to God, the more often I hear Him speak. Though there is an intense longing for the Infinite that cannot currently be fulfilled, I would rather have the stabs of Beauty to remind me that I am awake and that God exists.

“We may ignore, but we can nowhere evade, the presence of God. The world is crowded with Him. He walks everywhere incognito. And the incognito is not always hard to penetrate. The real labour is to remember, to attend. In fact, to come awake. Still more, to remain awake.”

 — C. S. Lewis, Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer

~ Johanna (13 October 2012)

O, October!

"This year is growing old gracefully, just like a stately old lady who knows she can be charming even with grey hair and wrinkles... How quiet the woods are today, not a murmur except that soft wind purring in the treetops! It sounds like surf on a faraway shore.  How dear the woods are! You beautiful trees! I love every one of you as a friend." 

~ Anne of Avonlea, chapter 10