September in the Rain
Writing this on yet another hot, dry day, I can only dream of September rain. Whether the weather breaks, remains to be seen, but September brings a fresh start. As schools return and autumn begins, the rhythm of life shifts. It is a time to pause, notice the changing world, and give thanks for new beginnings. Children begin new classes, and some a new school. For them, their parents and teachers, excitement can sit alongside real worries: different friends, new teachers, unfamiliar classrooms and expectations. As mornings cool, leaves turn and evenings draw in, September reminds us that life is always moving, bringing hope and challenge. Not everything will go as planned.
I once had the pleasure of directing John Godber’s play September in the Rain. It follows Jack and Liz through many years of annual holidays in Blackpool: wet promenades, boarding houses, familiar arguments, laughter and disappointment. The holidays are far from perfect, and neither is their marriage. Yet beneath the bickering and frustrations lies something much more important: a deep love, built through years of shared experience and everyday faithfulness. At the heart of the play is a piece of wisdom: life is not made meaningful because every plan works out, the weather behaves, or we always say the right thing. Its meaning is found in the people with whom we share it; in familiar routines, stories repeated, kindnesses offered, and love that remains when things do not go as we hoped.
As I have journeyed with God, I have come to see something similar, He is not looking for perfection from us. He does not wait for us to have all the answers, make no mistakes, or have everything neatly in place before He welcomes us. He meets us as we are: with our hopes and worries, successes and disappointments, and imperfect attempts to begin again.
After the drought of this summer, September rain may be particularly welcome. It might spoil an outing or make the school run less pleasant, but it is life-giving. It refreshes dry ground and reminds us that we cannot control everything. We can, however, choose what we pay attention to. Each day offers the possibility of a fresh start; each season reminds us that renewal is possible. As a new school year and autumn begin, perhaps we can resist the pressure to make everything perfect. There will be busy days, unexpected changes, disappointments and damp moments. But there will also be opportunities to value what matters most: family and friends, neighbours and community, simple acts of care, and a God who is with us in the day-to-day; faithful and unchanging, helping us to see the good that is already there.
Two are better than one
The next couple of months are going to be an exciting time for our family as we prepare for our daughter’s wedding. It hardly seems possible. It feels like only yesterday that we were bringing her home as a baby. Then came school, growing independence, a move to Manchester, and later Wales, where she found a job she loves and the man she is soon to marry.
As any parent will tell you, the years have a habit of speeding up. Children who once needed help tying their shoelaces somehow become adults making lives of their own. I have already been given strict instructions that my speech at the wedding must be short. My daughter knows me far too well. A shorter speech means less opportunity for her dad to reveal childhood secrets or tell embarrassing stories! As I was thinking about what I might say, I found myself reflecting on some words from the Bible:“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labour: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up.” (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10)
At first, my thoughts naturally turned to marriage. A good marriage is a partnership. Life brings challenges, but having someone alongside you to encourage and support you is a wonderful gift. Yet the more I reflected on those words, the more I realised they speak about something much wider than marriage alone. They remind us that none of us were designed to do life in isolation. We all need people around us. Friends who encourage us when life is difficult. Neighbours who lend a hand when we need practical help. People who notice when we are struggling and take the time to ask how we are really doing.
That thought was brought home to me recently while I was sitting in a treatment centre waiting for an appointment. Nearby were two elderly gentlemen chatting together. Both had lost their wives and, through their shared experience of grief, had become close friends. They were talking about plans for a holiday they hoped to take once one of them had finished cancer treatment. On the surface they looked an unlikely pair, but there was an obvious bond between them. There was friendship, mutual support, and genuine care. They had found someone who understood their journey and was willing to walk alongside them.
As I listened, I realised I was seeing a living example of those ancient words from Ecclesiastes. When one was struggling, the other was there. When one needed encouragement, the other provided it. Quite simply, two were better than one.
The truth is that all of us need somebody. We all need friendship, companionship and community.
If you have been feeling lonely or would like to meet new people, why not try one of the many groups that meet in our village? You might even like to pop along to The Gathering Place on a Wednesday afternoon. You will find a warm welcome, a friendly chat, and perhaps the beginning of a friendship that reminds you, as those two gentlemen reminded me, that two really are better than one.
