Oct 10 & 11 2026 Letter

Dear Beautiful Family of God:

There is something about autumn in northern Michigan that makes you wonder if God decided to show off just a little. Suddenly the trees that have been quietly green all summer refuse to be ignored. They burst into red and orange, gold and crimson. The roads become tunnels of color. There is that wonderful crispness in the morning air, the smell of wood smoke somewhere in the distance, pumpkins appearing on porches, apples everywhere, and — perhaps best of all — fresh apple cider and warm doughnuts. If heaven has an October, I hope they serve both.

And then there are the leaves. When I was a boy, my brother and I loved watching my dad rake the leaves. He would work and work, gathering them into one enormous pile. To Dad, I suppose, that pile represented a job nearly finished. But in the eyes of two little boys, it represented something entirely different: AN INVITATION! We would run as fast as we could and — WHOOSH! — jump right into the middle of them. Arms flying, legs kicking, leaves sailing everywhere. Then we'd get up and do it again. Dad would stand there looking at what had once been his beautifully raked pile. We thought it was wonderful. Dad had another opinion.

I suspect that scene has been repeated in thousands of backyards over the years. Even today, when I see children running through fallen leaves, kicking them into the air or disappearing into a pile that some poor parent has just finished raking, part of me wants to say, “Go for it!” There is joy in autumn. But there is also something deeper. Those beautiful leaves are beautiful precisely because they are changing. And eventually they let go. Maybe that is one of autumn’s quiet sermons.

All our lives, God asks us to change and, sometimes, to let go — of things we no longer need, old hurts we have carried too long, worries about tomorrow, perhaps even our insistence that everything must remain exactly as it has always been. The tree doesn't seem to panic when the leaf falls. It lets go, trusting that winter is not the end of the story. Beneath what looks bare and lifeless, something is already preparing for spring. And perhaps God asks the same trust of us.

So sometime during these beautiful autumn days, take a little time to enjoy what God has placed all around us. Drive through the countryside. Look at those hills blazing with color. Pick an apple. Buy a pumpkin. Drink the cider. Have the doughnut. Breathe in that wonderful autumn air. Thank God for another season and another day. And if you happen to see a beautifully raked pile of leaves… well, if you're over 70, you probably shouldn't jump into it. But you can certainly remember when you did. And smile.  Happy Autumn! And thank you, Lord, for putting on such a magnificent show.

Fr. Ken