Septembers and Pumpkin Spice Lattes

I’m still processing this settling down thing. Still missing the road and the ever changing scenery. This morning I was thinking back to where I was when September hit the last couple of years. 

We wrapped up our first summer on the road in Door County, Wisconsin and I still remember the day the calendar switched to September 1st. It was almost like the air knew it. It felt more like fall to me than September ever had. I guess that’s the experience far north on the Great Lakes. Fall rushes in quickly to make its mark before those winter blizzards attack.

Our second September was in Massachusetts. The stifling humidity of summer seemed to wane just slightly as the calendar switched months. We met new friends on September 1st that we will treasure forever. It was a lovely distraction. A beautiful gift.

September isn’t my favorite. I wish it was. I wish I could walk outside and simply breathe in that late summer air and think of nothing else but the promise of fall. I wish I could get excited about pumpkin spice lattes and fall leaves and the expectancy of shorter days and chillier nights.

Never much a fan of pumpkin in the first place, it will forever remind me of those days after Mason died when amazing and thoughtful people filled my home with all manner of pumpkin flavored snacks. This is the flavor of the season of course at Trader Joes, and believe me, I was grateful for the bounty. Hundreds of people rotated through my home those couple of weeks and the corner of my dining room was stacked full of food to offer. I didn’t have to deal with the “I’m hungrys” every day. The snacks were abundant.

But I existed each day with an emptiness. The pain of losing my child enveloped me and settled hard in the depths of my soul. It emanated weariness and nausea and stripped away the simplest things, like a good night of sleep or enjoying good food I didn’t even have to cook. The pit in my stomach that waited to oppress me every morning when I woke up made the thought of eating anything unbearable. There really aren’t words to describe how grief affects a person’s entire body, soul and mind. Physically yes, but also in a dimension far deeper than can be expressed. 

So now when pumpkin season arrives, a familiar hint of dread threatens to blanket me. And when I hear, “Yay! Pumpkin Spice Lattes are back!” I think, another year without my little boy.

More than anything, it’s a calendar marker for me. 

It’s funny, really, the things that become associated with the dreaded days in life. 

So here we are in a new home with new memories to make, but September still finds me. The upcoming birthday without a birthday boy and memories of late September ambulance trips and hospital horrors still taunt me that they are coming. I can’t avoid them. The 10th and the 28th still happen every year even if I don’t want them. 

But September also has a way of grounding me. Of refreshing my perspective. Of reminding me that even though it’s full of painful goodbyes and endings and shocking pain, it is also full of new beginnings and glimpses of eternity. It’s an ending for me but a glorious beginning for Mason. And someday when I’m able to grasp it completely it will make all this other horribleness fade away and disappear. 

September makes me long for eternity in desperate and expectant ways. And that in itself is a gift.

I’ve been asked a few times lately what it feels like to settle down now. How it feels to be somewhere “permanent.” I even call it my “forever home” (because I am most definitely never ever, EVER, moving again).

But it’s not forever or permanent. I never want to hold too tightly to anything on this earth. I’m grateful, yes. So grateful. This home is more than I could have dreamed of. I am excited for all the memories to come. But I will always and forever be more excited for eternity and all that God has prepared for me there.

I keep thinking of Jacob, finally reunited with his son Joseph in Egypt, meeting Pharaoh and being asked, “How many are the days of the years of your life?” And he answers, “The days of the years of my sojourning are 130 years…” 

The days of my sojourning. Sojourning is temporary. Jacob saw his entire life as temporary. Jacob, who wrestled with God and buried his beloved wife. Jacob, who lived believing his favorite son was savagely ripped apart by wild animals and then for a season believed his entire family might starve, held this world loosely. 

His answer is not, “I have lived 130 years,” it is, “I have sojourned here.” I’m just passing through. Heading to glory. I once had this amazing dream where angels ascended and descended on a ladder from heaven. And the Lord spoke to me from there. I glimpsed heaven from this earth! How could I want to stay here? That is my true home. That is where I long to be.

September helps bring the reminder of this transient life. It reminds me that even though this amazing new home we get to make ours is such a blessing, it’s still temporary. 

This life is fleeting. Gratefully, because of my Septembers, I recognize my life as a vapor, disappearing a bit more each day. One step closer to eternity. One step closer to glory.