“We are not born all at once, but by bits. The body first, and the spirit later; and the birth and growth of the spirit, in those who are attentive to their own inner life, are slow and exceedingly painful. Our mothers are racked with the pains of our physical birth; we ourselves suffer the longer pains of our spiritual growth.” – Mary Antin 

Where I come from, in upstate New York, autumn was not a season that stealthily caught you off guard. There, in the bosom of the Heldebergs, autumn “arrived,” in full phantasmagoric color, in crisp apple picking days and dimly lit supper times. It held me captive, but I never knew why.

Even now, as autumn approaches, I find myself stirred by vague memories of long walks home from school under a harvest moon, the smell of fall air and the delightful treat of caramel apples. Now that I am older and a little wiser, I realize that on a deeper level there is meaning in the purpose of fall itself; in the season that signals a moving into winter.

For me there was, and still is, comfort in the latency, that period of time when growth is stilled. After the last harvests of fall, the created world begins its journey inward, when the growth of spring and the fulfillment of summer comes to a halt and life begins a period of rest and renewal.

Contemporary author Denis Waitley reminds us that autumn is the season “for enjoying the fullness of life—partaking of the harvest, sharing the harvest with others, and reinvesting and saving portions of the harvest for yet another season of growth.”

Certainly, there is an essential quality to the experience of growth. God has deemed it necessary in all areas of human existence.

Think of Jesus, who, as Scripture teaches, grew in wisdom and grace.

There was no “Cecil B. DeMille” moment of revelation, with trumpets blaring and lights flashing, where Jesus became aware of all things from all times. Neither are we born with a full spectrum of knowledge, nor does any flower erupt from the earth in full bloom, at once whole and complete.

But growth for the person can be the most painful of experiences, often stemming from great trials of loss and doubt. When the trials are many and the pain becomes overwhelming, we are often encouraged to find ways to flee from the experiences, and with the escape, avoid growth. How blessed we are that nature needs no such escape route.

Surely, God created all things not only for our enjoyment and benefit, but also to instruct us. Nature teaches that periods of stillness, of turning inward, are necessary and fruitful for all of God’s creation, most especially God’s children.

Perhaps that is why God created autumn to be so beautiful; to encourage us to lose ourselves in the stillness for awhile in order to prepare for our next season of growth.

Morrell writes from Colonia and Ortley Beach. Visit her blog at http://wellspringcommunications.typepad.com/wellspring