Shadows are growing long. We are just a few days until the sun quietly slips across the equator into the southern hemisphere. Night temperatures are pushing into the forties. The hummingbirds are gone. Chrysanthemums are everywhere taking the place of lilies and petunias. Nurseries have piles of pumpkins. There are little ones for table decorations and big ones for the front porch. Acorns crunch under foot and squirrels are planting oaks all over the yard. Yellow buses haul our most precious bundles back and forth to math, spelling and home. Small New England towns are advertising fall festivals and political signs decorate the roadsides. Shorts are disappearing and hoodies are appearing for reasons of temperature. There is a tinge of color in the maples making the nearby white church steeples look like postcards. It’s a grand time. If and when I die I want to die in March but never in September or October.
A few weeks ago my wife and I celebrated our fiftieth anniversary. I remembered Jimmy Durante singing The September Song.
Oh it’s a long, long while, from May to December
But the days grow short, when you reach September.
When the autumn weather, turns the leaves to flame,
One hasn’t got time, for the waiting game.
Oh, the days, dwindle down, to a precious few.
September. November.
And these few precious days, I’ll spend with you.
These precious days, I’ll spend with you.
When I was forty I used to preach that going to heaven was merely a change of address. I didn’t realize then how much truth I was speaking. Each year has gotten richer. How can we possibly imagine adding yet another millennium? Jesus has made it not a hope but a reality.
Written by Roger Bothwell on September 20, 2012
Spring of Life Ministry, PO Box 124, St. Helena, CA 94574
Rogerbothwell.org