entry twenty

apple harvest. pumpkins. boxwood wreaths. crackling logs.

the crispness of autumn. the wash of refreshment colliding with bare senses. and it lightens the heart.

i’ve been told this does not ring true for every soul who experiences it. and that is such a sorrowful thing. for a breeze that sweetens the air sweetens into the very depths of me. i am passionate about the beauty that draws me to Him. and i could talk into long hours of darkness of how His creation stirs within me a deeper longing to know more of who He is.

and perhaps it is all me alone in this? that when autumn leaves shake down from trees ablaze in amber hues, my soul wants to rush the winds and meet Him in the race of it all? As though when the year begins to end that is when things are stirred into action. and slowed into gratitudes.

when we render thanksgivings and unite in the delighting of the end-of-year fruits…


How we close each year in celebrating His coming as one lowly babe here to save us all from all our sin?

And how does the changing of the leaves and the gathering dark of the days not make one pant with desire to be huddled in close to His Word? The year’s ending brings us within doors to rest in front of fires, with mugs of something that warms us to the toes, and curl up close in everything soft- all just to be able to bury deep in a written living Word.

When white begins to blanket the hillsides and the trees have turned barren, and how can you not think of it all just up and ending? And so it will.

And the Savior’s returning. And this Grace here. This Joy now.

And how can this not fill one to the depths- this rosy cheeked, frosted breath, crisped freshness that surrounds us and bring us all in close?

when we allow ourselves to get gathered right up in the chaos of the season instead of the celebration of the season, and allow that panic to come right into our homes and burrow deep instead of immersing deeply in the Reason for it all.

when less is more just doesn’t make sense to the worldly cognition. and when generosity just doesn’t have a role to play within this life.

photo (3)

maybe that’s when the steps need to be taken back a bit. and the childlike joy found in the changing of the months’ tides needs to be rekindled. when the realization of just how much you get when you give needs to be anthem-ed out and set ablaze…

feel that crispness penetrate through the skin and deep into lungs, and don’t be afraid to smile when you just. let. it. all. go. 

because that is the very start of how to beg in– it’s in the letting go. in the whisper of the freshly fallen leaves underfoot. in the apple’s juices ready to be relinquished. so too may we relinquish the juices of Grace and pour forth ever generous the blessings of the every day and those to come.


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