Autumn Winds are Blowing

Autumn.  In America.

New season.  New life.  New start.

Again. 

Not completely new for me, however.

I am back in Milwaukee.  It’s where I’m from.  Where the story started.  Where I was standing when the miasma of wind blew into my life and I floated away to another place, another chapter, another life. 

In some ways everything is familiar here.  I know the streets, where to turn, where to walk, where to shop.  In others it’s all different.  I don’t see many of the same people, but I have made many new friends.  I don’t live in exactly the same neighborhoods, so I have new routes to drive.  I don’t go to the same church, but my new church has already welcomed me with open arms. 

I am doing what I love – teaching.  And where I’m teaching is both familiar and strange. 

The students are, of course, familiar.  Kids are kids no matter what uniform they wear or where they are born.  They all want to be loved and acknowledged and helped.  They both reject and accept their teachers on a minute-by-minute basis.   (One day this week I was told I look like Adele.  The next day, Mrs. Doubtfire.  I’m not sure I resemble either, to be honest.)  Their minds and hearts are open and I thoroughly enjoy them. 

The curriculum is different from what I’ve done before and so I am challenged in finding the right ways, the best ways, the most creative ways to present learning.  It requires a lot of energy from me and I see my days overflowing with the demands of it.  My mind and my heart are open to it and I thoroughly enjoy it.

Once again I am doing something I didn’t expect.  This whole idea of living for God and following His lead has some rather unexpected turns.

I thought at 50 I might be teaching, but never expected to come back to Milwaukee.  I thought at 50 I might own a house, but never expected I would own a house, but rent an apartment in another city.  I thought at 50 I might be writing more, but life drains me and writing sits on a shelf with all the other fun things right now.

I wrote once about autumn as a time when everything dies.  Colors are profuse, but for such a short time until the wind and rain destroy them.  I talked of the cooler air blasting the world with its chill. 

Last night I was at a bonfire with some of my new friends from work.  Much like Moscow, I am, again, somewhat of an outsider to their group.  It’s clear they have shared much of life together.  Their familiarity draws them into a tight bond.  They correct and love each other’s children.  Long standing jokes ripple through their conversation. 

The event was quite similar to those enjoyed with my Russian colleagues. I, also, was somewhat of an outsider there.  They had shared much of life together and enjoyed each other’s company.   Commonalities bound them together.

But this time I understood the language and the customs.  The same, but different. 

I wasn’t lonely on the outside looking in.  I didn’t feel left out.  I didn’t wonder what was happening around me.  It was nice, actually, to see my new colleagues through this lens and the warmth of their friendship.  I felt encompassed, surrounded, peaceful.

In the center of the clearing was a large bonfire fed by wooden pallets.  A ring of merrymakers were singing with a box drum, guitars and heavenly voices.  Beyond that circle were tag-playing children whose location could be seen only by the glow-in-the-dark bands about their neck or wrist.  Like neon lights they circled the space.  Above us, tree branch fringe laced the evening sky.

The wind was cool, but not harsh.  Leaves had begun to change, but had not fallen.  Many things have changed in Milwaukee these ten years I’ve been gone.  Especially me. 

It’s a new season, it’s true.  But I am not afraid of it.  I look forward to it with open arms and a curious mind.  What exactly will we learn here?  Who exactly will we meet?  How exactly will this chapter look at its conclusion?

This time, the writer doesn’t mind autumn. It’s nice.

The Right Season

I’m not one of those “everything pumpkin is a special blessing from God” people.  And I wouldn’t say autumn is my favorite time of year for many reasons, but after all the complaining is set aside, I do rather like autumn.

I like the brightness of the skies lit by a harvest moon.  I like the sunshine playing with yellow leaves hanging like golden drops of promise flying from summer’s hold.  Even the chilly rains of October are easier to endure when the walk is carpeted with orange.

The color of it all paints the world cheerfully.  I like that.

Inside, though, autumn is a sad time for me. 

My Grandma’s birthday was in autumn and I am not done missing her yet.  30 years isn’t long enough for me to stop talking about her.  “My Grandma made the best banana bread.”  “If my Grandma were here she would say she loves that!” 

It was autumn when she became sick for the first time.  Autumn when I walked to the hospital to see her after school.  Autumn when I realized I would lose her eventually.  Autumn signifies the end of my childhood. 

And so I don’t like autumn.

I know God understands this as He often places extra blessings in autumn for me so I can think on good things.  New school years start in autumn and I love that.  The leaves, as I said before, decorate the world in paintbrush fashion and I enjoy that.  After summer’s thick, musty air I breathe better in autumn.  And breathing, of course, is a good thing.

And it was autumn when He spoke to me first about going to Russia. 

I will spare you the details, but suffice to say it was on an autumn drive that I was discussing my future with God (some might say praying), when I felt absolutely certain that I was about to get direction.  I waited in anticipation.  Would my writing be picked up by a Christian publishing company and millions would be saved?  Would I somehow skip college and be a teacher who would influence poor, urban children causing them to realize their wildest dreams?  Maybe I would be a missionary to some romantic place like an island?  Oh the possibilities were endless!

I can see a much younger version of myself sitting in the Sunday School classroom.  I hear my friend’s voice repeating words that God and I had spoken of the day before.  I knew it wasn’t coincidence.  The anticipated direction was close at hand….. “Maybe God wants you to go to Russia.  Why not?”

My very spiritual, Christ-like, example-to-others reaction was to look out the window, into the sky and say, “Russia?  You’ve got to be kidding, right?” 

Now here I am 20 some years later enjoying my coffee and looking into my Moscow neighborhood.  Although I’ve not quite been here a year, this feels like home. 

Many autumns were lived between that conversation with God and today.  I find myself measuring my young woman’s expectations against my current reality.  The delay between the call and the answer is entwined in its own story of many chapters.  I often questioned.  I frequently doubted.  Toward the end of the delay I, Peter-like, denied the call when someone reminded me.  “Oh, no, I’m sure that won’t ever happen now.  That was for a different time in my life.  Not now.” 

But you know God is never late.  To Him there was no delay, no hesitation, no change of mind.  It was all right on schedule.  Looking back I can see Him training me, changing me, leading me, preparing me for this very autumn.  I wouldn’t have chosen the path which brought me here, but I’m glad for the knowledge it gave me.  There were some chapters God saw me through that I know were not His preference.   The choices and actions of others may have dragged out the plan, but the Planner didn’t change His plan for me. 

I am so glad that when I was presented with the question again, I had the right answer.  “Yes, I would be interested in teaching in Moscow.”

It’s not without personal cost to me.  I have left the young woman full of energy behind along the way.  I am a grandmother now with enough minor health problems to annoy me. Moscow exaggerates my weaknesses.  My children are grown now, which is good.  It would have been very difficult to raise children here.  But now I want to help raise my grandchildren which is impossible from this side planet.   We freeze joy in quick snapshots in an attempt to share life, but my arms are empty.  They live their daily joys and sadness without me and I miss every moment.

It’s not without cost, it’s true.  But it’s also not without extreme blessings.  Time for teaching and time for writing has opened new doors of ministry for me.  I am confident that the scriptures taught beside addition will make lasting impressions upon my students’ lives.  The older me appreciates this much more than my younger version would have. 

Yesterday I walked along an autumn lane with three of my younger colleagues.  We were given tickets to a ballet at The Bolshoi.  I love ballet!  The grace, the beauty, the strength, the romance, the story of it all!  All of my writer senses come alive in its presence. 

Grandma made sure I took ballet lessons as a child.  It’s an old friend full of lovely memories for me.  I feel the music and the little girl inside wants to twirl, leap, stretch!  For my colleagues, however, experiencing a ballet was something new. 

I watched their reactions with great interest reminded of my younger self.  I was full of words to describe the day, they were speechless.  I re-read previous chapters in my heart’s memories of other ballets.  They were making new notes on fresh pages.  It was nice to share it with them, to see it through fresh eyes again. 

Strolling with them I saw something that reminded me of my Grandma, but the melancholy was held in check by the blessing.  I find I can enjoy this autumn.  This is the day the Lord has made.  I can rejoice and be glad in it.

Autumn Joy

The following piece from A Book of Pages About Crossing Bridges is one of my all-time favorites.  The memory of the smiles on my grandbabies' faces, the glowing tree we played beneath, the warm sun and the crisp air alternating dominance.  Mmm.  Yes, I do like autumn.  

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Autumn Joy

September 2009

T

he change of seasons is one of those things that catch writers by surprise. We always notice it and it always is new to our senses.

            I noticed autumn the other day. I was taking a walk with my grandbabies in the sunshine. Anna was properly holding to the side of the stroller which contained her two brothers. We were chatting about motorcycles and trucks as they passed us by. A luscious, Saturday stroll casually going from here to there when all of a sudden we were confronted by a carpet of golden sunshine.

            Of course, I am a grandmother so I do my best to maintain proper decorum at all times as is becoming a lady of my age. (You can laugh out loud here. That’s allowable.)  So, when I saw the leaves I did what any Bapka of my stature would do. I stopped. Pointed. Shouted!  “How fun is that!” 

            Well, those well-behaved grandchildren of mine didn’t know what I was talking about. They looked up to see if it was a bird or a cloud or a star. All of which I have been known to call to their attention. They looked down the street to see if a car or horse or being of distinction were coming toward us. Then they looked at me in confusion as if to say, “what now?”

            I smiled coyly and stooped to pick up a HUGE ARMFUL of golden drops of sunshine. Laughing as I did so, I threw them like snowflakes over the three astonished children.

            “Let me out of here!”  Mavrik shouted with joy as he pushed his way out of the stroller. He is always the first one to guess Bapka’s games. (It started with blocks and Godzilla, but that’s another story.)  

            Anna squealed and joined the melee. Before long, a storm of golden maple leaves clouded the air and almost covered Arthur whose giggle could be heard above the noise.

            We played as long as we wanted then we went on.

            Funny how we never found quite another likely pile of leaves to play in. There were other piles of fallen leaves, but not quite the same. Not as soft or bright or tantalizing.

            Autumn is not my favorite time of year. There are many shadows that pull at my heart in autumn.

            And yet . . . who can resist the smiles that overwhelm the shadows?  I visited New York first in autumn. My sister and I bridged many, many years on those October walks in the City. First days of school, of course, are part of autumn. Teaching and learning are two of my favorite things. St. Catherine University is a splendid place in autumn.

            Autumn is also the time of year when God gave us Arthur back.

            Autumn. Smiles. Golden drops of promise. Yes. I do rather like autumn after all.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

To order a copy of A Book of Pages About Crossing Bridges or a Friend Named Jesus,

 please visit my website:  Writer's Pages

Facebook:  Author Kris A. Newman

Happy New You!

Aha!  There it is!  The September/October edition of the Chippewa Valley's premier women's magazine is on the stands. Here is the link to the website where you can find full editions.  5iveForWomen

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Here's to a Happy New You!

Autumn always catches me by surprise.  It seems as though I go to sleep one night to warm summer breezes and wake up to a cool catch in the sky.  The trees burst in gold and red.  Shadows are sharper and longer.  Autumn is here!

Other seasons sort of slide into each other.  The air warms slowly in spring bringing bits of bright flowers one bloom at a time.  Spring slips into summer with temps climbing with the corn.  Even winter sneaks in behind Thanksgiving and teases until Christmas.  But autumn bursts in, forcing the door wide open and catching me off guard.  One of these years I will remember to throw a jacket in the car for those days that start with the AC on and end with a chill.  

The “Back to School” ads should be my first warning sign.  Every marketer worth their salt will take advantage of it.  All the things a student needs to be the smartest, best dressed, most popular shout from every vantage point.  Every corner store touts all the right tools to give the student the best boost.

Even with all those red and orange shouting sale signs, autumn shocks me.  The leaves begin to fall, the flowers begin to fade and the bustle of summer gives way to matters of great importance.  It feels like autumn should be the beginning of the year.  Maybe it’s all the stacked up years of school behind me, but I feel like I should be doing something new every fall. 

Life seasons are like that, too, I have found.  We skip our way through the school and work years -building careers and families one small moment at a time.  Laced with laughter, stitched with weary work, life builds a full photo album of Kodak moments.  

We are in college or engaged or starting a new career.  We sing through the pages presented hardly noticing the pace increasing stanza by stanza.  Possibly children are added to the symphony bringing their own joyful sounds to the concert.  No time to stop and listen!  The conductor pushes us forward to the fine!

Wise live-rs soak up the memories banking them against the future.  They take long walks holding small hands.  They swim and boat and splash while the sun is high.  They take time for coffee breaks with friends absorbing the good of their fellow travelers.  These are people who know it is much easier to carry a burden with a friend than to stumble along alone.  They use the precious commodity of time to stash away smiles to pull out when the season changes.

Because, one day, suddenly, without warning it changes.  The nest is empty, trauma knocks on the door, the company downsizes and we find ourselves looking at a new path that we didn’t expect to see.   Change appears and challenges our perceptions.  It’s disconcerting when everything we worked so hard to build begins to fall.  The very foundation beneath us shakes until up is down and down is up.

The trick to getting through the change is to find something to focus on that is good, beautiful, fulfilling.  Use the season to your advantage.  Pull from the storehouse of relationships you have built in the summer season and you will find shelter and strength against the hard days.  

It’s likely you cannot control the catalyst of this change anymore than you can put the leaves back on the trees.  It’s likely you didn’t realize how much of yourself you had given away to the summer sunshine and now you find yourself depleted and chilled.  It’s likely you have been made to stop, to wait for the bus, to hold the new tools given by someone else as you face an uncertain day.  

What does “normal” look like now?  When the rain stops dripping and the wind stops blowing and all the golden drops of promise have swirled away, what remains?  Your character, your loved ones, your talents. 

Like a kid with a new school year, look beyond the challenges and invest in a new outcome.  

You will find deeper riches in this season.  Kick up that carpet of leaves and dance on the crunchy floor of them!  Invite a friend in and treat them to tea for two!  Breathe deeply of the fresh, crisp air!  Fill your lungs and sing! 

If autumn has caught you by surprise, unwrap the present and see what blessings it holds.  Today is the first day of the rest of your life.  Love lavishly.  Live deeply.  Laugh richly.  

To order a copy of A Book of Pages About Crossing Bridges or a Friend Named Jesus, please visit my website:  Writer's Pages

Facebook:  Author Kris A. Newman