August

Seems when August hits the world starts pulling out its dusty brown sweaters and fall movie lists and you start dreaming of home baked goods, and hot tea by the fire.

Seems just everyone is tired of the pomp and romp of summer. They’ve filled with July lake days and hot summer sun, and they all simultaneously look over their shoulder and long for . . . change.

The fields are mown and hay put up. The sunflowers line the dirt roads like a welcome home, waving in the wind. The garlic is harvested and drying on the kitchen table—in the famous ice cream bucket the Midwest is known for. The tomatoes are just coming ripe and your sourdough starter has had a long sleep in the fridge, it’s happy now out on the counter.

When August 1st comes along it’s like the world wants to breathe one heavy sigh, weary from play, and rest is needed. All of June and July you’ve had morning coffee with the flowers and the garden, and the grass is greener than it’s ever been. And now it’s August, change is needed . . .

There’s room for quieting the soul in August. I needed to learn that.

Full of life and living, that’s what summer is. External and wild.

There can be quiet in the bustle of summer. A gentle, silence that can come from just being. Stillness in the wake of trying to make everything what you think it ought to be.

There’s room for loving the dried flowers on your sister’s table. There’s room for the soft words of ‘Sarah, Plain and Tall’ with your feet up on the picnic table while afternoon storm clouds roll in.

There’s room to learn to breathe again so you can see how golden the light on the maple out front.

Room to sit in silence and not reach for something with noise to chase the hard thoughts away. Room to hear God’s voice again. Coming still and gentle through the silence.

Perhaps the change we all really long for—is just a sure, quiet knowing again that God is here.