It seems like only yesterday was spring, yet summer has already passed, and suddenly I find myself standing in the heart of autumn.
To see autumn’s face more closely, I visited a flower garden. The garden was filled with chrysanthemums of many colors—yellow, white, purple, brown—each radiating its own deep fragrance.
Inside their pots, they all seemed to compete to reveal their most beautiful selves. Each one was so lovely that I couldn’t decide which color to choose.

As I wandered, picking up and setting down several pots, I found a large one that held yellow, purple, and brown chrysanthemums together. Someone, perhaps thinking of people like me who can’t choose just one, had blended several colors into one pot. Satisfied, I bought two such pots, thinking they would be enough to make this autumn splendid.

I do not know when the autumn wind began to blow, but I feel that it has already entered my life. When did I begin to feel my own autumn within me?
It was during an evening worship service, a few years ago.

My husband was preaching from the Psalms, about King David fleeing from his son Absalom, when suddenly I remembered the pot of meat soup I had left on the electric stove.
I froze in panic—the image of our small house engulfed in flames flashed before my eyes. Covering my mouth with my hands, I sat stunned, unable to move.
As I met the startled eyes of my husband and the congregation, I could only stammer, “…I just remembered that I left the electric pot on at home.”

That night’s worship, as my husband later said, was completely ruined—because of the pastor’s wife.
On our way home, neither of us said a word, silently giving thanks that no smoke was rising from our house. Hallelujah, indeed.
The meat soup had burned completely to charcoal, but thanks to the pot’s automatic shutoff, no fire had started.
After that day, I realized more and more that the autumn of my life had already come.

This year, on my birthday, I suddenly realized that I could no longer keep receiving gifts from my children just because it was my birthday.
So my husband and I told them:
“No more birthday or Christmas gifts. Your very existence is enough. We have already received more love and blessings than we deserve. If you feel like doing something, send mosquito nets—ten dollars each—to children dying of malaria in Africa, in our names.”
After saying that, I felt my heart become light, like autumn leaves fluttering in the breeze.

To know, feel, and enjoy the changes of the seasons is one of life’s wisdoms.
Just as spring and summer have passed us by, so too will this autumn one day leave us, filled with longing.
Before it hurries away, I want to color my heart—red, yellow, and soft blue—just like autumn itself.
And with that beautiful, burning heart, I want to live this day fully.