Counting Our Octobers

Photo by Benjamin Voros on Unsplash

"I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers." I wholeheartedly agree with this sentiment from Anne of Green Gables. For about as long as I can remember, October has been my favorite month. Life in October seems so especially full and rich, bursting with beauty and meaning. Each crisp morning seems to crackle with promise, and each sunny afternoon seems somehow more gorgeous than the last. When I was growing up in the West, October meant snow on the rugged peaks and soft autumn sunshine on the brilliant gold of the aspens and cottonwoods. October meant the comfortable warmth of fleece and flannels; it meant trout rising and birds flushing and elk bugling. It meant long days outdoors and campfires and just the sheer joy of being alive. As I grew older, October meant walking my kids to school on frosty mornings. October meant watching my daughter run cross-country under the red maples. It meant watching my sons in helmets and pads and singing "Sweet Caroline" under the Friday night lights. It meant watching them compete on sunny Saturday afternoons. It meant fall camping trips as our family would huddle together in a tent during the first snowfall of the season. 

In all its glorious beauty, however, October brings with it the hint of something less hopeful. Indeed, part of the haunting beauty is the sheer fleetingness of it all. Somehow the changes manage to be both subtle and sudden, and we know that they are irreversible. The colors will change—and then the leaves will fall. The winds and rains and snows will follow. The now-vibrant leaves will fall and fade—and then they will decay and turn to dust. It all goes so very, very fast—and there is nothing that we can do about it. October punctuates the beauty of life—and it brings with it the warnings of death. 

And so it has been in my life. For as long as I can remember, October has been my favorite month. But the Octobers of my life have also been some of the most sobering and challenging times of my life. I have sat with my father as he lay dying, looking out the hospital window at his beloved Bitterroot mountains and longing for one more horseback ride together. I have struggled alongside those facing massive battles in mental health, battles that I could not conquer for them or even begin to comprehend. I have been wheeled into surgery, wondering if my heart would ever again find a normal rhythm and ever again beat with strength. 

With dear Anne Shirley of Green Gables fame, I am so very glad that I live in a world where there are Octobers. How many Octobers are before me? I do not know and cannot know, but surely the number is lower than the number of those behind me. What I do know is this: each October is a gift. Each day of October is a gift. Each day of every month is a gift. Each October—and indeed each day—is a gift to be received with gratitude and gladness of heart.

What I know is this: I know that I am grateful for this day. I am grateful for the rich beauty of this day. I am grateful for the depths of love that are showered on me on this and every day by my family and friends. I am thankful for the unspeakable grace and mercy of the Triune God that sustains me and fills me with wonder. 

I also know this: that I want to make each day count. I do not want to waste these days—and indeed waste away—in sin and shame. I do not want to squander these days on the petty or the trivial. I want to do something that makes a difference. I want to invest in something that counts. 

I want to make each day count. And thus I pray with the Psalmist: "Lord, teach us to number our days, that we may have a heart of wisdom" (Ps 90:12). 

So teach us, Lord, to count our Octobers. To number our days—to receive each one as the gift that it is and to cherish it as such. To make the most of our days. And "may the favor of the Lord our God rest upon us; establish the work of our hands for us—yes, establish the work of our hands" (Ps 90:17). Amen.

Thomas H. McCall holds the Timothy C. and Julie M. Tennent Chair of Theology at Asbury Theological Seminary.