The Language of Autumn

This year, in my little region of the world, the seasonal change from summer to autumn was slow in its arrival. Only in the last week have we glimpsed the onset of a foliage transformation, chilly mornings, and earthy scented evenings. As summer lingered for one last tryst, autumn waited in the lengthening shadows. While most people in North America long adopted the seasonal name of “fall”, after “the fall of leaves”, anyone with a deep love of true English (according to Merriam Webster) knows “autumn” is the appellation of elegance for this singular season. As my favorite season, I have long been captivated by the language of autumn.

In this season of my heart, I see all things autumnal are an invitation for me to come as I am, to the Great I Am where all things are finally made free.

Born in autumn, this seasonal language speaks to my soul as no other seasonal language. I believe each season has its own language, in the same way a country of origin has its own mother tongue, and those born there speak it first and with fluency. Think for a moment about the season in which you were born, does not that seasonal language sing a special song to your soul?

While I have learned to find beauty and delight in the other seasons over the years, autumn owns my heart. I remember the first time I heard the term in first grade; as we learned about the seasons, my teacher wrote the word “autumn” on the blackboard, and I was captivated by it.

I close my eyes, and even now I see my little hands write the word over and over, saying it in a sacred hush.

Over the years of elementary school, when we would learn about the seasons, each year added another nuance about each season, and then we would write or make craft projects about the seasons. Always coming up with a few things for the other seasons that illustrated them, or that I enjoyed about them, autumn filled pages.

In love with all things autumn, as a child, I spent hours in the woods behind my home collecting leaves, acorns, and seed pods. My treasures, they kept me company on lonely afternoons; their scents and colors somehow spoke into my emptiness.

Spring without a doubt parades a rainbow of breathtaking colors before our eyes, but the colors of autumn reach deep inside our souls. Burnt orange, fiery reds, crimson, plums, russets, golds, and glorious yellows, while stunning to the eye, wrap us in a visual embrace. They evoke vibes of comfort with their earthiness, nostalgia, creativity and optimism.

Autumn is a season of transition, and the colors invite us into the warmth of a groundedness before the stillness of winter. Of all the seasons, autumn invites a sensory grounding deep with comfort and belonging. Chunky knits, cozy throws, candles, spiced cider, and bonfires are the tactile and ambient elements which provide a natural emotional calm.

As we follow autumn’s gentle descent from summer activity to winter’s stillness, we find moments rich with reflection and introspection.

Shorter days prompt a calm inward focus; as we watch the beauty of the falling leaves and consider the weights we must let go for now. Seasonal rituals like pumpkin carving, hayrides, and harvest festivals evoke cherished memories, submersing us in welcome nostalgia.

The emotional blending of reflection and nostalgia brings a personal sacredness to autumn, unlike any other season.

This is the language of autumn, the wooing of our care worn and fragile souls back to deep communion and belonging after a season rife with movement and productivity. Each season has its own language; autumn’s comfort and belonging, winter’s stillness and rest, spring’s rebirth and awakening, and summer’s movement and productivity.

God designed the seasons to speak to us in these ways, creating a cycle of life we repeat over and over again; circles within a circle, ever expanding from the inside out.

There is an invitation in every season, I wrote this liturgy as I pondered God’s autumn invitation:

A Liturgy to Welcome Autumn

We feel You in the gentle whisper
of change on this cool autumn morning,
our eyes caressing Your splendor in the
glorious colors of vibrant foliage.

O God of all seasons,
we welcome You in autumn’s robes
of waning light and harvest blessings.

Autumn’s promise of change melting into
surrender as we [ex]change the
work of sowing for the harvest of grace.

Autumn invites forgiveness for heated
seasons of impatience and intolerance
breathing Hope into brokenness
and belonging into loneliness.

May our hearts find strength in Your love
to shed self-reliance and performance
with the same ease and joy of the
trees releasing their leaves.

Finding grace to embrace humble trust
in Your exquisite goodness, we welcome
autumn’s beauty in creation’s selfless surrender.

Remembering, Abba, Your unchanging
hand and heart when change creeps
close in autumn’s chill;
wrap us in the warmth of Your unfailing love.

As we listen to the haunting splendor hidden in the language of autumn, may we hear God’s invitation to draw near and rekindle the intimacy of quiet communion. God speaks through autumn the language of drawing near, surrendering the weight of performance, remembering our first love, and sinking into a place of deep belonging with the One who loves us best.

Which part of His invitation speaks to your deepest longing today?

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