Red, yellow, and not too blue

I drive home along the river and marvel over the autumn leaves turning brilliant red and yellow, but at the same time I'm reminded of one Sunday years ago when the pastor asked the congregation what they were thankful for and some nice church lady mentioned the beautiful fall leaves, only to have another nice church lady intone darkly, "The leaves look nice now, but soon they'll all fall down and the colors will go away and everything will turn dark and bleak and make me think of death." 

Well sure, that's one way to look at it, but if I had to think about death every time I saw a colorful leaf, I'd stop looking. But I can't drive home with my eyes shut so instead I glory in the beauty of nature, even when I'm in pain--or especially when I'm in pain.

Having a diagnosis for my bum knee is a bit of a relief--torn meniscus, severe arthritis--but I'm definitely looking forward to getting some treatment, which will probably start with steroid injections. The knee is not quite so painful at night these days but it's excruciating when I have to stand for long periods of time. At church I can generally get through one hymn without too much discomfort, but last Friday at the inauguration of our college president I had to march in the academic procession and then remain standing through the national anthem, the invocation, and the college hymn, by which point I was grasping tightly to the chair in front of me to avoid falling over from the pain. The colleague next to me whispered You can sit down if you need to, but people were taking photos all over the place and I didn't want to go viral as the evil professor who refused to stand for the national anthem--or the prayer, or the hymn. In these troubled times, I didn't want a personal, practical decision to be interpreted as a symbolic act.

Despite the pain I went for a walk up my road Saturday morning just to see how far I could go. I took my husband along to distract me with conversation, which helped. Our creek is mostly dry right now and looks like a river of leaves, but we heard kingfishers chattering and saw the friendly smiles of neighbors, which also helped. One of our close neighbors killed himself last week--Who knows why? It all got to be too much for him--which made me sad for his family, who will see the lovely colors of autumn through grief-tinged eyes.

Or maybe the lovely colors will provide some comfort. I know they cheer me up, even if I'm well aware that winter is coming. I may be a little blue, but I refuse to encounter the beauty of autumn except with eyes wide open. 

  

Our creek looks like a sea of leaves.