I so look forward to the Fall season, with it’s beautiful leaves, fragrant smells of candles burning, fresh apples, or pumpkins carved- slow cooked meals and warm fireplaces…it is the coziness of it all for me. It’s the sharing and family times ahead that I love. My husband on the other-hand hates Fall. To him it is the cooling climate, the dying and darkening of things…a very depressing thought, but a real one in the circle of all things living, and I know many people feel this way.
It got me thinking of the circular nature of the blessings and sadness in our lives. I am happy to say that I am a new auntie to a wonderful baby boy who was born (healthy and beautiful) at my sister’s home (my sister and her husband planned to have her son at home…without drugs! (I know you people exist, yet, I am still in awe)!
While I happily embrace this blessing of life (a new baby that isn’t mine!), as well as the many Facebook “Thankful” (who post their month-long reasons for feeling blessed)…I understand that many struggle with sadness at this time of year particularly — remembering their losses from previous years…holidays from their youth, missing loved ones that can’t be with us in the upcoming season of celebrations.
So it is with that reflection that I will share that I have reflected upon, and have found much comfort in this poem/prayer that a good friend shared with me. Perhaps it may be of some comfort to others as well.
I give you this one thought to keep –
I am with you still – I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning’s hush
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not think of me as gone –
I am with you still – in each new dawn.
Typically the attribution states ‘Author unknown’ but if you use this version to reprint, or in a note to someone, it is probably appropriate to say that it is adapted by person(s) unknown from the original poem “Do not Stand at My Grave and Weep,” generally attributed to Mary Frye, 1932.