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“I prefer winter and fall, when you can feel the bone structure in the landscape — the loneliness of it —t he dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it — the whole story doesn’t show.”
American painter Andrew Wyeth found beauty even in the changing seasons, when the full trees and blooming flowers of spring and summer give way to a landscape that’s bare and stark. Some days, it’s even rather bleak.
But there is beauty and promise even in the heavy gray skies and empty brown fi elds that surround us. The abundance of the harvest calls us to praise God, who provides for all our needs. The long slant of the sun in the autumn afternoon makes everything glow in the prettiest light of the year. And the land takes its sabbath rest.
We’re about to enter that time of year when we live in the hope of promise rather than its fulfillment. In spring and summer, “the whole story” shows, as Wyeth says. Plants spring back to life, flowers bloom, trees fill out, and the bright sun enlivens all of it. In late fall and winter, the earth rests, and we see its “bones” rather than its produce. We must trust in the wisdom of creation and its Creator— that winter rest will nourish the land, and that the new life of spring will indeed come again.
The liturgy and prayer life of the church has always made connections between the cycle of the day, the cycle of the year, and the cycle of our lives. In praying morning prayer (matins), evening prayer (vespers), and prayer at the close of the day (compline), we connect the sunrise, sunset, and nighttime with the cycle of our lives.
The seasons of the year do the same thing for us. At the end of the day, we cease our productivity and rest for a while. At the end of the harvest, the earth ceases its period of productivity and begins a season of rest. In both cases, it is God who brings peace to our rest.
In autumn and winter, the landscape may look dreary and desolate at first glance. But, just below the surface, there is always promise. God is present, blessing his creation, nourishing the land, and preparing it to resume its vocation of abundance in due season.
Just so, we never navigate the dreary and desolate seasons of our lives alone. There is always promise. God is present, blessing his creatures, guiding our lives, and preparing us to encounter whatever comes our way in the next season. With God, there is always beauty and hope, even when things look bleak.
