We’re just at the start of September, my favourite month, not only for the first sights and scents of autumn but also for the sense of a new beginning, a second ‘new year’ in the calendar.
As children and young people start returning to schools, colleges and universities I look to the next few months as a time of clearing and cleaning, autumn cleaning, reflecting not just the time of year but the season of my life.
The first autumn clean task on my list is a major clean of the conservatory. As I look into it, the first thing I see are the conkers from local horse chestnut trees which I put along the sills every year, having read that they’ll discourage spiders from coming indoors as the weather cools. I’m not sure why I do this each year as I’m neither superstitious nor afraid of spiders. Plus, I can report that it doesn’t seem to work as a deterrent: we have plenty of spiders and their cobwebs all year round.
Whether you like spiders or are scared of them, there’s something so beautiful about a spider’s web, especially one covered in dew drops like the one in this picture.
Each one is unique, a true gift of God’s creation and takes time to construct. If you don’t have a fear of spiders, it’s fascinating to watch that happen. Think how tiring it must be to knit one, even with eight legs to act as needles!
It’s got me thinking about our individual webs of connections: with family/friends/colleagues/faith groups or through charity work, social groups or sports.
We spend our lifetime being part of webs, spinning and re-spinning them as we move through different life stages. Of course, we don’t always get to choose the webs we’re part of, for example our birth families. Some of the webs we’re part of lead to sadness and conflict; our webs aren’t always as strong as they should be. Unfortunately, our webs may get damaged or even broken completely, leading to great sadness and pain.
Sometimes we spin the wrong people or habits together to try and create a web of security around ourselves or allow things to come into our web which could be harmful to us or for us. Then we discover, like the insects trapped in a spider’s beautiful but deadly web, that they can be very hard to escape from.
When I’m doing my autumn cleaning and removing spiders’ webs with a feather duster, I know that the trickiest bit won’t be reaching up to the highest corners balanced precariously on a stepladder but will be trying to remove the remains of the web from the feather duster. It always takes ages to detach the stickiest bits from my hands.
In our lives too, it can be really hard to detach ourselves from the ‘sticky’ bits, whether they’re bits we’ve chosen or just things we’ve been pulled into. Webs can be so hard to escape from. It’s amazing that something which looks so delicate can be so strong.
If we allow God to draw the various threads of our lives together: those which feel strong, those which feel broken beyond repair; the sticky bits; the abandoned bits; the bits we feel we don’t have the strength to sustain, we can be sure that he’ll take them all and weave them into a spectacular new web, making us not only beautiful but also super strong. He longs for us to allow ourselves to be ‘captured’ by his love.
Part of the wonder of a spider’s web is that light can penetrate it so we can see through it and beyond it. God will show us the beautiful things he has for us and help us to break through to where they are. The things which have trapped us will become easier to shake off as we emerge into a new season.
As we move into autumn with its beautiful colours and scents and sense of a new beginning, let’s celebrate being an essential part of God’s world wide web and let’s pledge to reach out and pull others into its glorious protection.
Sunlight Through the Shadows 