It was November--the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul.~L.M. Montgomery (From Anne Of Green Gables)

The surprise ending comforted me. I held off watching a PBS series I'd enjoyed for many years. I knew season ten was the last one. I'd come to love the characters. I'd miss them. Feel sad to no longer connect with them. As I moved through each episode, a theme emerged that the family would move to a different town and start a new life. But then, in the very last episode, the family realized they didn't want to pull up roots. They wanted to stay. The last scene showed the father peering through the open door of their home that was no longer for sale. He looked out over an expanse of ocean glittering in the distance, then nodded his head. I could hear the gentle click when he closed the door. The end. Safe inside.

It's that time of year when I feel like Anne of Green Gables. November marks the imminent close of another year. The geese have parted from the pond in the back of our house and the sunsets are vividly orange and deep indigo. Almost purple, the color of ripe plums. The wind is rustling through the pines. Christmas near.

And perhaps the autumnal winds have indeed cleared out the fogs in my soul. The last eleven months have been a time where I feel like I've come home from a long day. A good day. I open the front door, then look over my shoulder to glance out at the street. Neighbors coming home, a delicate, white moon beginning to emerge in the evening sky. I lean my back against the door, take a deep breath, relieved to be in the familiarity of home. The last rays of sunlight slide through the windows in the living room. The scent of coffee lingers from breakfast. 

Doors open. Doors close. Comings. Goings. Beginnings. Endings. All are needful in this terrestrial landscape. Some surprising.

God's shalom peace and love at Thanksgiving.