One of the surest signs that September has arrived is not found on a calendar.
It is found in the sound of someone sharpening a pencil.
Now I realize that in many homes pencils have been replaced by laptops, tablets, and devices that seem capable of doing everything except finding where you left your reading glasses. Even so, there remains something wonderfully hopeful about school supplies. Fresh notebooks. New binders. Clean lunch bags. Boxes of crayons lined up with military precision before they begin their inevitable migration to every corner of the house.
September has always been the season of preparation.
As a child growing up on our farm, September meant that summer freedom quietly gave way to routines. School clothes appeared. The smell of new scribblers filled the kitchen table. Somewhere in the distance, Dad was already thinking about harvest while the rest of us wondered whether our teachers would remember our names after two months away.
For clergy, September feels surprisingly similar.
The Church’s calendar does not officially begin until Advent, but parish life certainly wakes up after Labour Day. Choirs return. Bible studies resume. Committees discover that they have not met since June and therefore require two meetings to discuss why they missed the first one. The coffee hour grows louder. Children’s voices once again echo through church hallways. Suddenly the building feels wonderfully alive.
I have always loved that.
There is something deeply theological about beginnings.
Scripture is full of them.
“In the beginning…” are among the very first words we encounter in the Bible.
Abraham begins a journey.
Moses begins a calling.
The disciples begin following Jesus.
The Church begins at Pentecost.
Again and again, God seems remarkably unwilling to let people remain permanently defined by what happened yesterday.
That is good news for all of us.
Many people secretly carry into September a list of regrets from the summer.
“I didn’t accomplish what I hoped.”
“I never got around to…”
“I should have…”
“I wish I had…”
Those sentences have an unfortunate habit of becoming permanent residents in our minds.
God, however, is much more interested in the next sentence.
Grace has always been forward-looking.
One of the great gifts of the Christian life is discovering that God rarely asks us to begin perfectly.
God simply invites us to begin.
There is an enormous difference.
If perfection were required before starting, none of us would ever leave the driveway.
The disciples themselves were not exactly the Dean’s List of theological education. They misunderstood Jesus with remarkable consistency. They argued about status. Peter occasionally spoke before consulting his brain. Thomas required extra evidence. James and John wanted front-row seats in the Kingdom.
In other words, they were reassuringly human.
Yet Jesus called them anyway.
Perhaps holiness has less to do with flawless performance than faithful willingness.
That thought has comforted me more than once.
Stephen Leacock once delighted in observing the splendid chaos of ordinary Canadian life. He understood that humanity is often at its funniest when it imagines itself terribly organized.
September has a similar talent.
On Labour Day weekend, we produce elaborate colour-coded calendars worthy of a military campaign. Every appointment has its place. Every evening has a purpose.
By the second Thursday, someone cannot find a gym shoe.
The dog has eaten part of a permission slip.
The dentist has scheduled an appointment directly in the middle of choir practice.
Half the family is living on reheated chili.
The other half wonders why there is so much chili.
Civilization begins to wobble.
And somehow…life carries on.
Thankfully, so does grace.
God has never required our calendars to be tidy before offering us divine companionship.
In fact, God seems remarkably willing to walk beside us while we search for lost backpacks, forget passwords, misplace sermon notes, or discover that the meeting we carefully prepared for is actually next Tuesday.
That, too, is holy ground.
Perhaps this September we need not strive quite so hard to have everything under control.
Perhaps we simply need to become available.
Available to notice.
Available to listen.
Available to encourage.
Available to pray.
Available to laugh at ourselves when life inevitably refuses to cooperate with our carefully laminated schedules.
Because the Kingdom of God has always grown through ordinary people living ordinary days with extraordinary faithfulness.
Every September reminds us that life begins again.
Not because we have finally become better people.
But because the God who creates mornings also delights in creating fresh starts.
So sharpen your pencils.
Open the notebook.
Straighten the desk if it makes you happy.
Label the binders.
Make the plans.
Then smile when half of them need revising before the week is over.
Because the most important thing beginning this September is not your schedule.
It is God’s continuing work within you.
And that has always been the finest beginning of all.
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Companion Prayer
Gracious God,
Thank you for the gift of new beginnings. As this September unfolds, help us to welcome each day not with fear of what we have left undone, but with hope for what you are still creating within us. Give us patient hearts when our plans unravel, joyful spirits that can laugh at ourselves, and faithful courage to follow wherever you lead. May we discover your presence in ordinary routines, everyday conversations, and the quiet moments in between. Continue your good work in us, one day at a time, through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.