Fall in Minnesota

It is an absolutely beautiful day here in central Minnesota. I am at my dad's home on Lake Sylvia, looking directly south. For the first time in several days, the strong breeze is from the south. Wavelets lap at the shore no more than 100 feet from the window in from of me. The maple trees have turned a brilliant yellow, which provides a stark contrast to the azure blue sky, And with this breeze, the leaves are tumbling down from their summer perches in droves. If one area of the driveway is swept, it seems like a few minutes later, it is again ankle deep in leaves. Chestnuts hit the roof of the house like tiny bombs, and roll off onto the lawn. Every morning there are two buckets of chestnuts to collect, at least.

Here are some leaves. Beautiful!

I am here with my dad's wife, Susan, and my brother, Dave. We are sorting through some of my dad's things. We have taken four loads of scrap wood to Fairhaven Farm, a local farm with an outdoor oven for baking. They needed the firewood, and they got it! We took one load of scrap metal to the recycler in St. Cloud the other day, with another load all ready to go tomorrow.

We have laughed and remembered. We have wondered at some of the things my dad collected. A man, who seemingly threw nothing away, as evidenced by the tremendous amount of scrap wood. We have eaten. We have watched NASCAR and Vikings football. And we have missed my dad.

It has caused me to wonder what my life consists of, and what sort of things will I leave my family to sort through. Rachel will immediately say, "pens." Well, I confess, I do love a good pen. And if one pen is good, a dozen are better. Still, I stick to my favorites. I have a red Zeppelin pen for writing most everything, and a Parker for correcting papers, as it has red ink. Still, I like pens, and will most likely buy more.

I will leave a great deal of theology books behind when I go. And some computer parts. You never know when you might need another hard drive cable, of which I have, oh, more than a few.

I will leave behind clothes, one of the three things Beth married me for (my clothes, my books, and my 1977 yellow Datsun pickup truck, now hard at work somewhere in Mexico.)

(Moonrise over Turtle Bay, to the east of my Dad's house.) I am remined of when we moved from our Monterey Road house to our house on Marengo. I came across a box. I looked in it, and I saw some toys I had bought some time before, to give to the kids when they were small. Some Star Wars toys for Mark, some Barbies and stuffed animals for Rachel. However, sadly, the time had passed. The right time for them to receive maximum enjoyment from them had come and go. And I was left wondering why I had not given them to my kids at the time. It was their loss. And mine.

I wonder what my dad was doing with four truckloads of scrap wood. Was he saving it for a rainy day? Was he preparing to do some project? Was he using them as a hedge against some structural disaster? I understand that Home Depot was out of the way. But that much stuff?

I live so much for tomorrow. When I do this. When I do that. When this opportunity comes. Like Yoda's charge against Luke Skywalker, "Never his mind on where...he...is. Hmm!" Since my mom and dad died in their early 70's, I understand how fragile life is. I am beginning to realize that I may not have 30 more years. Or even 20 more. Or even another day! So I live life for today, without forsaking the dreams of tomorrow. I suppose there are toys in the box the Lord has given me today, that will not make much sense to me on any other day. If only I would open them.