October Warm

October 22, 2017

More than once on this date have I scraped the frost off the windshield in the morning. In our neck of the woods, as often as not, at least a dusting of snow sparkles in the early sunlight, glittering like diamonds on the lawn. The edges of the leaves on the ground are fringed in white, and crinkle under foot. It’s a glorious time of year, a time of fruition as the farmers are hastily working their fields, putting in the remainder of the summer’s corn for the winter. It’s been a dry autumn, which translates into hours saved, not having to pull tractors out of the mud. 

Hopefully, this week we can get in some of our winter’s wood, splitting and stacking it against those cold nights we know are coming. But tonight, after a busy weekend, I get to sit and drink in the beauty. It’s quiet here, with only the splashing of the creek and the rhythmic drone of the cicadas breaking the silence. The occasional car wends past the house, it's Doppler crescendo and decrescendo rising and fading in the distance. 

It was warm enough today to ride the bike to church, and to little Nathan’s birthday party. Rare are the times we’ve been able to celebrate his day in circled lawn chairs in the front yard. Seeing someone mowing their lawn in tee shirt and shorts may be a common October sight in Tallahassee, but here in Sinclairville, it grabs one’s attention.

Sitting on the back deck as the sun sets, I know that halfway around the world, people suffer hunger, persecution, illness and deprivation such as I have never known. Closer to home, someone will die tonight, a victim of violence, and others sit in silent vigil as a loved one slips into eternity. On city streets, young girls ply the trade, slaves to men who buy and sell them without conscience or pity. And in penthouses, politicos and CEOs make deals, buying and selling power and the lives of those whose voice has been silenced in backroom deals.

I am unable to do much about such things except to pray. At first glance, prayer seems like an exercise in futility, a cop-out. But God hears the cry of the poor, and though it may take more time than we prefer, evil has a way of devouring itself, and God will vindicate his own. So I pray. And I remember to give thanks for all I have received, knowing that God’s blessings are his undeserved gifts of grace, which I am duty bound to share as best I can.