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There’s a lot of love for the month of October. You’ll be hard-pressed to find someone who doesn’t also enjoy the changing color of foliage, pulling out the sweaters, drinking the pumpkin lattes, drinking the pumpkin beers, eating the pumpkin foods, carving the pumpkins, talking about pumpkins, camp fires and flannel and boots and scarves and crisp air and hot chocolate and football and mittens and the crunch of leaves under your feet and picking apples and baking pies…  
 But October always feels like a time of renewal for me. Moreso than even the beginning of a new year in January or the growth of new blooms in spring… October, at least in my mind, is the start. 
 I was born in October, so maybe that’s where it’s rooted. But there’s something about so much visual change– leaves, weather, clothes, food– that feels fresh. Maybe it’s morbid to feel like the beginning of death is the truest of beginnings, with the leaves changing colors before falling off and branches becoming bare in the cold… But this season is exciting to me for that reason.  
 I think it’s easy to be inspired about a “new beginning” in January… or even when the tiniest little shoots of green start appearing on the vines.  I’ll be better this year. I’ll run. I’ll eat more veggies. I’ll send better Thank You Notes. I will actually write Thank You notes. I will be intentional with my time. I won’t sleep too much. I’ll stop watching Real Housewives. I’ll learn to sew. I’ll not be jealous of Pinterest.  But to really begin to do something new, to BE something new in fact… the old has to die. That’s why I love fall. It’s such a beautiful death.  
 Every October I am reminded of what it means to put off the old self and put on the fullness of Christ. It’s a death to the old ways of thinking and living and trying to be good by my own determination in order to make room for the new blooms of holiness. 

There’s a lot of love for the month of October. You’ll be hard-pressed to find someone who doesn’t also enjoy the changing color of foliage, pulling out the sweaters, drinking the pumpkin lattes, drinking the pumpkin beers, eating the pumpkin foods, carving the pumpkins, talking about pumpkins, camp fires and flannel and boots and scarves and crisp air and hot chocolate and football and mittens and the crunch of leaves under your feet and picking apples and baking pies… 

But October always feels like a time of renewal for me. Moreso than even the beginning of a new year in January or the growth of new blooms in spring… October, at least in my mind, is the start.

I was born in October, so maybe that’s where it’s rooted. But there’s something about so much visual change– leaves, weather, clothes, food– that feels fresh. Maybe it’s morbid to feel like the beginning of death is the truest of beginnings, with the leaves changing colors before falling off and branches becoming bare in the cold… But this season is exciting to me for that reason. 

I think it’s easy to be inspired about a “new beginning” in January… or even when the tiniest little shoots of green start appearing on the vines. I’ll be better this year. I’ll run. I’ll eat more veggies. I’ll send better Thank You Notes. I will actually write Thank You notes. I will be intentional with my time. I won’t sleep too much. I’ll stop watching Real Housewives. I’ll learn to sew. I’ll not be jealous of Pinterest. But to really begin to do something new, to BE something new in fact… the old has to die. That’s why I love fall. It’s such a beautiful death. 

Every October I am reminded of what it means to put off the old self and put on the fullness of Christ. It’s a death to the old ways of thinking and living and trying to be good by my own determination in order to make room for the new blooms of holiness.