Journal of Sacred Work

   Those who are present to nature know that seasonal change is gradual, happening over many days. Yet there is a pivot point on the calendar. September 22 is the date when day and night are equal.     Fall, as the
gateway to winter, is a celebratory time for some and more difficult for others who fear the cold. If you can make out the moon tonight, you may celebrate it as the Wine Moon since this is the time of year when grapes are harvested.    Wine Moon. The phrase has a pretty sound to me. And the word images we use have so much to do with how we feel about seasonal change.
   For many years, starting at age twelve (my age when my family moved from southern California to northern Ohio) I disliked fall. I even came to dislike the word "crisp" because it was always the word my dad used to describe the first cool day. To me, the word was simply a reminder to me of warm California days that were no more. After some hard winters on the edge of Lake Erie, fall began to feel to me like a death sentence. In fact, something had died. I didn’t know what that was at the time. But it was my childhood…

   I liked being a teenager. But it was hard to
surrender childhood and even harder to recognize I could never really
return to California’s near continuous diet of fair weather.
   The main reason I’ve been drawn, recently, to the power of the Serenity Prayer is that I realize how many seasons I’ve wasted repeating useless patterns of regret and resentment over things I can’t change. I lost
the enjoyment of the stunning beauty of so many northern autumns because I allowed myself to be weighed down with mourning that I was in Ohio and not California. How foolish of me. No one ever helped me come to terms with my grieving and I never lived the solution myself until recently.
   Once I truly began to absorb the wisdom of the Serenity Prayer, I began to wonder why so many of us allow our moods to be controlled by the weather outside instead of the light within. "Oh no, it’s cloudy again," one nurse will report glumly to another. Hours later, she still looks glum, the clouds outside hanging over her head like a leaden cloak. Next day, it’s sunny and she’s smiling, her face a remarkable barometer.
   "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change." If there was ever something that can’t be changed, it’s the weather of the moment. Does this mean we should all go around celebrating cloudy days? Perhaps it means that we accept dark weather with grace and focus our energy on the joy of living and on changing the things we can change.
   Today, night and day are equal. The Autumnal Equinox is a chance to meditate on balance. Many Japanese celebrate this day as a time to visit the graves of the dead – to honor the gifts and the light of those who have left this earth. In this celebration, they embrace loss with serenity.
   Can the wisdom of the Serenity Prayer bring us a new season of joy?  Can we find a better balance between work and rest?
   Many caregivers, beset with worries about those in need, actually fear resting. Yet rest, reflection and meditation are critical to balance and to good caregiving. As Wayne Mueller writes, service to others is challenging work, but it need not be "a painful and dreary thing." If it’s beginning to seem dreary, it means things are out of balance.
   Today, I invite you to celebrate this pivot point in seasonal change. When you breathe in the early
taste of fall, you may smell the aroma of change. You may even decide, as have I, that each season’s arrival is a time for celebrating life as it comes and goes. After all, the seasons will change whether we like it or not. So we have the choice to embrace the change with joy or to fuss about something outside our control.
   I still miss California, but that small ache doesn’t stop me from loving autumn in Tennessee, the state where my wife and I have lived since 1998.
   Along the Sonoma and Napa Valleys, the grapes are ready for harvest. Here, shades of gold and red emerge in leaves once dressed only in green.
   Tonight I’m going to stare up into the Nashville sky and celebrate the Wine Moon even if clouds block my view. All of life waits to be lived, not in fear but in love.

-Erie Chapman