The windows and doors are all open, letting a crisp breeze refresh every corner of the house on this quiet afternoon. This change of seasons is written into the soul of the earth; it’s time’s silent and relentless march forward, moving creation from one breath to the next. From the moon’s journey around the earth to the symphony sung in a mountain forest, nature reminds us how these cycles are as elemental as oxygen.

But we don’t like change; there’s safety in staying the same, in predictability, in the expected. Our desire for control and consistency often sets us at odds with the natural rhythm of life so we wind up restless and weary because paddling upstream is exhausting.

We tend to speed through these transitional moments and miss the beauty of simply being here.
I’m no different; every part of me wants to focus on what’s next, on how to help Lora with preschool, on the last month of our Team Norah fundraiser, on the next podcast episode, or on planning the holidays that are coming up.

But today I’m forcing myself to just be here. Because of August.

A year ago today, I went in for the first of 2 D&C’s that I ended up having during the miscarriage. With Norah we have a clear birthday and heaven day marked on the calendar, but with August those dates are a little blurry. We’ve chosen today, September 8th, to be August’s ‘Life Day’ – a special combination birth/death day that celebrates August’s short time with us.

I’m letting today be what it is. I knew this first year would be especially hard, but outside of that I honestly didn’t know what to expect; grieving August has reinforced how unique grief is to each loss. So I took today off and went into it with open hands.

After dropping Lora off at preschool, I treated myself to a Starbucks and Target run, giving the barista ‘August’ as the name for my cup. On the way home I pulled into the Starbucks drive through (no I didn’t get more coffee, just breakfast) and paid for the order behind me, giving the car behind that a $10 gift card and little note. I also picked up a succulent for my acupuncturist who I saw over lunch. She’s the sweetest and acupuncture has made the single greatest impact on the way my body carries my experiences.

I’m notoriously terrible at self-care and tend to bury my feelings in productivity, so I forced myself to slow down, to just be. This afternoon I got a facial, and even when scheduling the appointment I was thinking: “there are so many other things I could be doing!”

After getting what was easily one of the best facials I’ve ever had, the sweet aesthetician informed me that my service was paid for. When we started, she asked what led me to wanting a facial, and along with some skincare concerns I shared about today and the miscarriage, simply stating that I’m choosing to make space for myself. Being a mother herself, she felt so moved and touched by my honesty that she chose to cover the cost of the service. It ended with us both in tears, and I’m still in awe of her generosity.

In the note I shared this morning, I called the gift card a little ‘Rae of Sunshine’ in honor of August Rae. That’s what I have been trying to fill today with – little rays of sunshine – for those around me, as well as myself. But this generous and tender act of a stranger blew me away.

When I was pregnant was August, all I could think about was the future: Lora helping her little sibling, how we would manage two tiny living humans, and how I could possibly go back to functioning on little to no sleep. But God kept gently setting my feet on the ground – placing hearts or monarch butterflies wherever I’d go, quietly shifting my attention out of the ‘what ifs’ and into the ‘right now’.

Miscarrying August has left me feeling like stranger in my own body. It shattered my understanding of its capabilities and left me with skin, hair, a cycle, and more that are completely different than what I had known for the previous 29 years of my life. Part of it is getting older, part of it is recovering from the miscarriage, and all of it is God.

I thought I could heal myself. If I just did the right exercise, grieved the right way, ate the right foods, or took the right supplements I could restore my body. But I’m a broken person, and broken tools can only fix so much. I cannot truly heal myself because my goals and motivation are based on earthly examples.

But God can.

I choose to honor August by allowing myself to be restored. By choosing and creating space for healing not because it’s trendy, not because of wanting to lose weight or to get pregnant, but for God to work within me to restore me to his chosen design for this moment.

That starts with being here.

If you’re tired after a busy summer, take time to breathe and relax. Reflect on the fun that was had, but also pay close attention to what you need right now.

If you’re anxious about a new job, new house, or new school, give yourself space to feel that. Anxiety has a tendency to come out sideways when it gets ignored.

If you’re coming out of a difficult season, honor that experience and give yourself grace. Gently help your body and spirit recover while remembering the power of hope. What’s something you can look forward to?

Friend, I pray you have a beautiful fall.
But even more importantly, I pray that you’re able to take time to just be.

God will do the rest.