Help me; I think I'm Falling!
Some reflections on life's seasons.
Fall tiptoed in quietly recently, on the 22nd of September, to be exact. But a couple of weeks before that, I sat in the darkness of my living room in the early morning, listening to that first Fall rainstorm pounding on my roof.
Here’s a snip from my journal that morning:
The rain is pounding hard right now, drenching this Dallas world with blessing, and it deserves a mention. Glorious in noise, dark in the great room where I sit. I almost feel the brown soil soaking up the rain.
“Flourish,” the rain seems to beckon as it pounds the dry earth.
May the world be refreshed. May seeds be watered, energized. May plants be safely tucked in, rooting, drawing strength as their outsides rest, while what is visibly beautiful and fruitful takes a break, rests, even falls to the earth.
It is from the death of one season that the beauty of another season rises.
While Fall comes around annually, and prepares us each year for other seasons that lie ahead, this year it felt especially poignant for me. Perhaps it’s that It’s slowly dawning on me that in the scope of my whole lifetime, this is now most likely my own “Fall” season.
The pounding rain that morning felt like a visual image of the season of life I find myself in.
My metaphorical “Fall” began a couple of years ago for me when, as many of you know, my husband suddenly became very seriously ill. For days his life hung in the balance as sepsis raged through his body, and by the grace of God, massive amounts of antibiotics and the amputation of his leg, eventually the tide of raging infection turned, and he inched back toward life.
In the months that followed, we slowly realized that our full-bodied “Summer” season of life, full of work and building and adventure, was behind us. It had changed into a “Fall” one, the dying back, slowing, growing darker. In this unexpected season, we were forced to end our jobs, slow our pace, nest, and care for one another.
That season was a restless one at first, but slowly we learned to make peace with stillness, with new limits. It took time, but gradually we began to adapt, to accept and embrace rest, and healing, and slowing.
Still, it took a couple of Falls before I at last found myself gladly sinking my roots down deep into the moist soil of home.
Fall’s beauty is different than Summer’s, isn’t it?
Fall’s beauty is different than Summer’s, isn’t it? It’s a beauty that calls us home--to nests, to fire, and quilts and tea. To reflection. To sending down roots.
But first, like the trees and plants around us today, Fall requires us to let go.
Back to my journal:
I wonder. Is Fall like this retirement season? This “Almost Old” stage? More peaceful, less frantic work, a bit of rest instead of the pressure of planting, pulling, digging.
It’s not quite the cold of winter, the confinement that comes when snow and ice blanket the world. But a rest from the work, action, the adventure of summer, and also the wonder and drive and fresh ideas of spring.
Fall is this; retirement and Almost Old are this:
Darker nights.
Shorter days.
Resting,
Assessing,
Nesting.
Fall is growing snug, enjoying the fruit of your labors, one eye on Christmas.
Almost Old is the occasional nap, and not having to go everywhere and pack the car and live our children's lives.
The new has gone, the old has come.
Life's seasons are meant to change, aren’t they? There isn’t one right season. As with the annual seasons, it is change that brings fullness and richness. There are seasons of flourishing outwardly, and seasons of storing up strength inwardly. Seasons of newness, and wild growth. And seasons of dying back. Each season supports others, filling in what’s missing.
If Spring is “The old has gone; the new has come,” Fall is the opposite: “The new has gone, the old has settled around us.”
Fall is the “dying back” season. In Fall we shed our leaves, let a few things go, and prepare for cold. My “Almost Old” season, this “Fall” of my life, sort of beckons me to slow. Put my roots down. Pick up some tea.
God gives us good things. And good things include change.
. . . . . . . .
Fall—the ending—is also the start of a new beginning. It is the rest of Fall that makes room for new growth, new color.
Despite the loss we feel when a season ends, even the decay and endings of Fall have goodness to bring to us.
In our church we often sing a song by Cody Carnes, “Christ Be Magnified.” It underlines the truth we are talking about with these words:
“Death is just the doorway into resurrection life!”
It is the very decay and death of Fall that feeds and strengthens our roots. The Pause that Fall is allows us to gather strength. And someday our Fall will burst forth into a new Spring!
There is purpose in the slowing, and even in the dying.
There is goodness in “Almost Old”.
The season of Fall is all around us. But what life season are you walking through right now? What are you grieving letting go of? What do you fear about this new season, or the one that comes after it?
We guess at what our next season might hold, and either fear it or anticipate it with wonder. The “not knowing” can be either blissfully hopeful or entirely threatening, can’t it?
Think about Jesus, for a moment. The All-Knowing One didn’t have to wonder or imagine. He knew.
On a borrowed donkey, Jesus rode into Jerusalem. Those cheering near to Him believed that He was just arriving at his peak, just coming into the full, flourishing Summer of his ministry and reign. Together with crowds of others the disciples shouted and waved palm branches and sang their Hallelujahs, joyful and triumphant as Jesus rode into town! Summer, or perhaps a new Spring was what they were picturing ahead. Jesus would bring in just what they wanted—a new reign of peace and victory!
Triumph, they believed, and sunny skies lay ahead.
But Jesus knew.
He knew that His “Fall” was now. He knew just how and where it would all end.
And as He rode into Jerusalem, with the crowd celebrating wildly around him, I wonder if His voice was quiet as He said the words we find in John 12:24:
“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless the grain of wheat, having fallen into the ground, should die, it remains alone.”
And then this:
“But if it should die, it bears much fruit.”
It's the other way around.
Here’s the thing: We think the seasons fall in a predictable order. We believe that death follows life. And sometimes that makes us draw back from the season ahead.
But Jesus said it’s the other way around.
Life follows death. Fall is the seedbed of Spring.
Now, from this safe distance, we know how the story ends. Jesus, laying down his life, brought newness of life! The ending was only the beginning!
But first came the Fall. First the dark nights.
. . . . . . .
What is your “Fall”?
Whether we are talking about the fading of light in Autumn, or a larger season of slow fade, all Fall seasons involve loss. Slowing. The absence of busyness. The loss of light.
But Fall is not the end.
Fall is the REST.
Fall is the pause.
Fall is the chance to strengthen and lengthen our roots.
Fall is when we get ready for new life, because endings are the birthplace of beginnings.
“Truly, truly I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”
If you are in a Fall season, know this: Spring, and resurrection, are certainly before you.
So let's nestle willingly into our “Fall”. Let’s trust. Send roots down. Rest, even in the barrenness.
Spring is as sure as Fall. And life follows death.
Help me; I think I’m Falling!
It’s Fall, and the leaves are dropping around,
Floating and fluttering soft to the ground,
And I, too, am “falling”, retreating to rest
Back here in my home where I tuck in and nest.
Fall is for trusting, receiving, and grace,
Mending and healing and slowing our pace.
Barrenness, too, is a season of strength:
Our once-timid roots are now growing in length.
Fall is for rain, and sometimes for tears.
Grieving our losses and facing our fears.
But once a seed falls to the soil and dies,
It then is reborn, and it multiplies!
Fall is for falling, but not into leaves,
Falling on Jesus; receiving deep peace.
Treasure the darkness, refuse all the fear,
You are enough, and your Lord is right here.
Fall is for reading and dreaming and boots;
For tea and a quilt and for sending down roots.
But Fall isn’t wasted, it’s making it’s mark,
For good stuff is happening deep in the dark.
Kathy Gallagher, 9/22/2026
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