ELIZABETH TURNAGE | CONTRIBUTOR

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every activity under heaven” (Eccl. 3:1).

Golden yellows, flaming oranges, deep burgundies — the brilliant leaves dance in the wind, announcing the change of season. Sunflower wreaths adorn neighborhood doors; coffee shops beckon with pumpkin spice lattes. Where I live, in the humid South, the dripping heat has relented to slightly drier air. What’s not to love about fall?

We love fall, but we know, as Robert Frost reminded us, that “nothing gold can stay.” With shorter daylight hours will come the browning and furling of the leaves, and within a matter of days, a cool wind will loosen their dried-up grip on the branches, and they will slowly fall to the earth, returning to dust.

Fall means glorious light and color; fall hints at the winter withering to come. Indeed, as the cynical Preacher of Ecclesiastes suggests, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every activity under heaven” (Eccl. 3:1).

Falling: The Challenges of the Season

In the same way that the warm joys of fall give way to the frost of winter, the “fall” of life brings new challenges. Researchers describe a stage of life called “emerging elderhood,” noting that adults aged 55-75 face a variety of challenges in these years.[i] Among these challenges are physical and cognitive decline, fear of the future, and shrinking social worlds. For Christians, the fall of life reminds us of the harsh effects of the Fall of Mankind.

The apostle Paul asserted that this “outer self is wasting away” (2 Cor. 4:16), and we experience this truth regularly. Friends, family, or we ourselves face health crises or frightening diagnoses: cancer, congestive heart failure, diabetes. Knees, hips, and shoulders need replacing. One day, our mom forgets our name, and we fear the onslaught of dementia.

Romans 5:12 tells us that death entered the world through Adam’s sin, and we experience this truth regularly. We watch as our parents’ health declines day by day, and we lie awake at 3 a.m. worrying about what-if’s. Friends and spouses, even children, go before us in death, and we find ourselves mired in grief. Empty chairs at the holiday table and voicemails we can no longer return press the reality of death into our hearts, leaving us longing for the day when there will be no more mourning (Rev. 21:4).

Psalm 71 reminds us of the marginalization and loneliness older people experience, and again, we experience this truth regularly. Friends must move to be closer to family or to enter assisted living, and our social worlds shrink. Younger people no longer seek our counsel, and we feel increasingly useless. Loneliness assails us like a harsh winter wind, reminding us that this world is not our final home.

New Light: The Joys of the Season

Despite the challenges brought by the fall of life, Paul affirms reasons for hope, “So we do not lose heart…” (2 Cor. 4:16). We are headed toward glory and our “inner self is being renewed day by day” (v. 17). Just as the heat of summer gives way to the relief of cooler, drier days of fall, the fall of life offers surprising joys.

Retirement can bring new energy and fresh opportunities. We may now have margin for needed rest and extra hours to serve— whether through volunteering at church, helping at the local Y or soup kitchen, or delivering meals on wheels. In loving our neighbor as ourselves (Matt. 22:39) and seeking to serve rather than to be served (Matt. 20:28), we become more like our Savior in this season.

Grandchildren sprout up, and we eagerly come alongside our adult children to help them with everything from diaper changes to daily carpools. (And for those without grandchildren, becoming a foster grandparent is a profound gift to others and to ourselves!) As we serve our children and grandchildren, we become intentional about telling “the coming generation the glorious deeds of the Lord” (Ps. 78: 4). In living the legacy we want to leave, we fertilize the faith, hope, and love of future generations.

When friends and family die, we grieve our losses, but we do not grieve as those who have no hope (see 1 Thess. 4:13), because we remember the hope of the resurrection. When we receive difficult diagnoses, we bend our hope toward blessing those around us even as we walk through illness, knowing that the Lord will make all things beautiful in his time (Eccl. 3:11).

Developing a Heart of Wisdom

Studies show that older women who maintain a sense of purpose and meaning in their lives age more “successfully,” with a great sense of “well-being.”[ii] Christian women in the fall of life will not be surprised by this finding. Our purpose is fixed, not fleeting—anchored in Christ himself, the kernel of our hope and joy. Even in the fall of life, Christ continually gives birth to new mercies, new hope, and new joy.

In the midst of our “light and momentary affliction” we know we are being prepared for “an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” (2 Cor. 4:17). We fix our eyes not on what is seen but on what is unseen, the eternal hope that awaits us. As we do so, we shift our focus from ourselves to the great purpose and meaning God has written into every season of life—to glorify and enjoy Him forever by loving and serving others. What a comfort to know that in the changing seasons of our lives, we are held close by the One who never changes.

[i] [i] Karen Skerrett et al. “Emerging Elderhood: Transitions from Midlife.” Clinical Social Work Journal vol. 50, 4 (2022): 377-386. doi:10.1007/s10615-021-00791-2

[ii] Ravenna M. Helson and Valory Mitchell, Women on the River of Life: A Fifty-Year Study of Adult Development (Oakland, CA: University of California Press, 2020), 317.

Photo by Patrick Tomasso on Unsplash