Enjoying The Autumn Days Of Life

This is a beautiful autumn day, just the kind that proved infinitely enjoyable when Barrett (our son), Smiley (his dog) and I would go for long Sunday afternoon walks. But whenever fall crispness transfigures the leaves--and they begin to crunch under foot--I remember those precious, delightful times.

In my mind we three are once again on one of our little jaunts. Old Smiley runs to investigate every rustle in the leaves and chase every smell, covering three miles of back, forth and zigzag to our one. Then with a shout, Barrett suddenly brandishes a stick he has plucked off the ground and challenges me to a game of Robin Hood and Little John. We mount a fallen log, quarterstaffs clash, and I take a tumble. Barrett guffaws about how he beats me every time.

Then we're back on the trail, encouraging Old Smiley with whistles and shouts toward the car--and the snacks waiting at home. Smiley huffs and puffs contentedly on the floor as Barrett and I rehash the day's excitement on the return trip. Sometimes a treasure--a deer antler or jawbone with teeth--is waved before Mom, perhaps with a few embellishments of our adventure.

Old Smiley has been gone for years, and Barrett now sleeps on Sunday afternoons to recuperate from a week of rigorous physical labor. And I am older and far less sturdy than I once was. Today my foot hurts; last week it was my knee.

Though now decidedly in the autumn of my own life, reminders of these past "summer days" endure. Just this past week I delivered an audio CD to friend Randy Sims. Once popped into his computer, it instantly draws us back to September 17, 1984. Joshua and Rebekah (his two oldest children) and Barrett are quoting Bible verses, singing and planning Barrett's upcoming fourth birthday party. Randy's eyes assume a faraway, reflective look--and we both confess how much those times meant to us.

In one of his hymns, Isaac Watts penned this poignant line: "Time, like an ever-rolling stream, bears all its sons away; they fly, forgotten, as a dream dies at the op'ning day." The significant people, times and places of the seasons of our lives come and go, leaving only memories--until time bears even those away.

Though autumn is my favorite, I actually welcome each season of the year and look forward to the inevitable, predictable changes it will bring. Should it not be so with the seasons of life?

I truly miss those past "summer days," but "autumn days" bring their own unique perspectives and pleasures. Albeit the pace is slower, crunching fallen leaves underfoot without the ever-pressing responsibility of rearing small children imparts a different sort of joy.

The writer of Ecclesiastes is right: For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven. I'm content to be in autumn and do not wish to relive spring or summer.

Memories of them still linger--and suffice.

Copyright 2001 James McAlister

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