It is winter today. It happened overnight. The leaves are primarily on the ground. They create a colorful carpet. Nature’s time varies little; our time moves around. The pleasant autumn days of October are yielding to the winter chill. So it goes with our lives. Change is happening all around us. We live in the past while the future is knocking at the door. The news can make you anxious. Events at home have changed. Someone moved the goalposts. Without warning, the measurement of what it means to be an American is redefined by some in political power. It pays to keep your own counsel. Holding on to the thru line of truth is comforting. We can not always be a member of the in crowd.

A colleague asked me how I worked for so many years at the University. I responded a day at a time. And there you have it. It seems life must be lived with eyes on the road directly in front of us. Worrying about what is around the corner is futile. The cacophony of disparate voices is troubling. Many problems must be addressed by the problem holder. There is no magic bullet.

The Old Man walked through the Winter Woods. The brisk breeze blew. The limbs bowed and swayed in the wind. The autumn leaves held on for dear life. There was reason to be anxious if you are unacustomed to the Winter Woods. Many limbs did not have their leaf coats on. The sky looked like snow. Some gentlemen were hunting for coins beneath the ground. The metal finders beeped happily.

You see, we gear up and prepare for one phase of life and have no backup plan for the next chapter. Colleagues often told me that when they retired, they were going to sit in the rocking chair on the front porch. That sounded restful but not engaging. Other co-workers said they feared that if they retired, they would not live long. Their life was their work. A reason to be anxious, I think.

Serenity comes from a sense of place and purpose. When I meet people who feel compelled to tell me the great things they have done, I wonder why they are insecure. The Little Drummer Boy will be sung about soon. Follow your own Little Drummer Boy. Please, your smiling reflection in the mirror, not the boisterous crowd.