As I turn the page to September
I'm grateful to take time to remember
Rich blessings of friendship, family and spirit.
Sweet music of life: To hear it! To share it!
I think I first wrote those words in a journal as October turned to November (yes, with November instead of September), possibly more than 15 years ago. They work well with all the "ember" months, with the November focus on gratitude, and December as a time of looking back and remembering as year's end approaches. But when it comes to richness, September seems to be the month. And this year is no exception.
Actually, I think I went through a period in which I didn't like September, because it marked the wind-down of summer and the onset of shorter days, less sunlight and colder temperatures. Maybe that changed when my nephew was playing college football and I looked forward to those games (and realized it was still pretty dang warm!). Anyway, I have renewed appreciation for the nature of September days.
But what I really appreciate is the richness of the September experiences. I think in some ways it starts with it being the month my parents got married. My parents were married Sept. 18, 1953; this year is their 57th anniversary. Their anniversary isn't always a big celebration, but it was twice -- for their 25th and 50th anniversaries. By the 50th, I was very aware that without them being together, and without their perseverance in staying together, my life would be much different. As I grow older, I continue to learn so much by watching them relate in their marriage and also as I gain insight into some of their choices and experiences along the way. Much of this awareness has come just by spending time with them, and that's what I did Sunday.
Saturday morning, Gene and I decided we would brave the Labor Day weekend traffic and drive from Norman to just south of the Red River that evening. The next day, Mom and Dad picked me up for church in Gainesville and then to spend the day with them, while Gene went fishing. In some ways, it's not all that different from when I still lived at home some 30 years ago, except then Mom usually fixed a roast for a Sunday dinner for a houseful of hungry kiddos, and now they go to a restaurant to eat. But reading the Dallas Morning News and Gainesville Daily Register are very much a part of the typical Sunday afternoon on the farm. I suppose in the olden days Daddy spent more of the afternoon outside, tending to one thing or another even on a Sunday. But he's 84, and though he probably doesn't think so, he's entitled to stay inside where the air conditioner is running. Now there's a cat in the house, too, which we didn't have when I was still at home. ...
I guess this ends up being Verse 1 of what could be a long September song. Although I need to quit writing for now and go do other things, I don't trust myself to come back to finish it today or even later this week, so I've got to post what I've written and just go on. I wonder if there's any writer in the world who is this unable to just sit down and follow through on what he or she wants to write. For the sake of other writers, I hope none do have this problem! I know what's happening -- a flood of thoughts and emotions related to life circumstances including me and my parents all growing older. I'm a writer, and I feel compelled to try to express the thoughts and observations and feelings in words. But I still get stuck in the struggle, and then the struggle is part of what I end up writing about. It seems to be part of a spiritual journey, but I truly hope it also leads to a written account of some important moments in life. Until then and always, my life is in God's hands. He's with me on this journey, and for that I'm grateful beyond words. And I'm grateful beyond words that I could take time this weekend to spend time with the most precious people in my life: my Mom and Dad and my husband, all of whom happen to have September anniversaries, by the way. (Gene's and my 28th was Saturday.)
Sweet music of life ..... the song continues ....