Lynne Baab • Tuesday November 18 2025
In 2014, my husband Dave and I were living in Dunedin, New Zealand. My mother would celebrate her 90th birthday in late October, so we made plans to spend a few weeks in Seattle and Tacoma around the time of her birthday. We arrived in mid-October to the blaze of red, yellow, and orange trees, highlighted against the gorgeous firs and cedars that are common here. As the weeks of our visit rolled along, the leaves started falling. In light winds, the leaves swirled and danced.
I never liked fall. For me, all those bright trees indicated that the months of darkness, cold, and rain were coming. Bright trees and falling leaves evoked a feeling of dread because winter was near.
Fall of 2014 was different. After a month of bright trees and dry leaves dancing in the wind, I would return to spring in New Zealand. The late rhodies and early roses would be blooming. The weather would get warmer each day. I would experience the luxurious flowers of spring that evoked joyful anticipation of summer. Late October and early November of 2014 were my first fall without something negative — winter — hanging over it.
In the midst of birthday preparation for Mom and visits with family and friends, I relished fall. For the first time in my life, the beautiful colors of the leaves lifted my heart. The freshness of the air delighted me. I was present, truly present, in autumn for the first time ever.
I began to wonder how many other things I had missed because I was worried about what was going to come after.
Almost a decade ago, I wrote a blog post about a quotation that captured my interest. Fulton Oursler (1893-1952), an American journalist, wrote this:
“Many of us crucify ourselves between two thieves — regret for the past and fear of the future.”
My dread of winter had been a thief, robbing me of enjoying the beauty of fall. Unlike Oursler’s word, I didn’t exactly feel fear of winter. “Dread” is the best word to describe that feeling that robbed me of fall joy.
In that blog post about Oursler’s quotation, I suggested that we can grow in three areas by trying to:
I still think those are great goals. In this post, I want to bring the journey metaphor into the discussion. Imagine you’re in some wonderful place — perhaps Paris, the Caribbean, or the Grand Canyon. Your travel plans are a bit up in the air, so you have some anxiety (or maybe dread) about the following day. However, for today, you are concentrating on the beauty of the setting. You try to absorb as much as you can, hoping you’ll remember what you’re seeing, experiencing, and enjoying. You know you won’t be back here for a long time, perhaps never, and you want to make the most of this moment, this day.
For everyday life, I want to recommend that same conscious focus on the present. This day will never be repeated. Maybe you’re having a hard day, and you’re happy you’ll never have to go through this day again. Even in hard times, though, God is present, and we will never again experience the Holy Spirit’s comfort and empowerment in precisely this same way.
Here in Seattle, we are coming to the end of fall. About three-quarters of the leaves have fallen. Piles of dry leaves have accumulated here and there, ready to dance in the wind. A few trees are still clothed in red, gold, and a dozen shades of orange. The trees this year have spoken to me of God’s beauty. They have comforted me in the midst of challenging days. They have lifted my heart. They no longer evoke dread of winter but instead exist as beautiful things in their own right.
In your life, what evokes fear or dread of the future?
in what settings do fear or dread for the future sometimes (or often) rob you of joy for the gifts of that moment?
Generous God, every good and perfect gift comes from you (James 1:17). Forgive us for the times we have ignored your gifts because of worry about the future. We confess that we have allowed fear, anxiety, and dread to rob us of moments of joy that you want to give us right here and right now.
֍ ֍ ֍
Next week: Imposter syndrome on the journey. Illustration by Dave Baab.
Christmas is coming, and I want to recommend some of my books as Christmas gifts:
Almost Peaceful: My Journey of Healing from Binge Eating for friends who live with disordered eating or who have friends or family members they want to support who struggle with it
Two Hands: Grief and Gratitude in the Christian Life for friends or family members who are going crazy in these profoundly discouraging times
Draw Near: A Lenten Devotional, with a few reflection questions on a psalm for each day of Lent, plus one of Dave Baab’s beautiful watercolors for each day
Sabbath Keeping, my most popular book
My two Bible study guides on prayers in the Bible: Prayers of the Old Testament and Prayers of the New Testament
֍ ֍ ֍
Two ways to subscribe.
If you’d like to receive an email when I post on this blog, sign up below under “subscribe.” That email and the posts on this blog are free and accessible for all.
If you’d like to help me cover the expenses for this blog and website, plus get a bonus post every month, you can subscribe on Patreon for $3 or $6 per month. My bonus posts focus on one or more of the hundreds of vivid quotations I’ve collected over five decades.
To receive an email alert when a new post is published, simply enter your email address below.

Lynne M. Baab, Ph.D., is an author and adjunct professor. She has written numerous books, Bible study guides, and articles for magazines and journals. Lynne is passionate about prayer and other ways to draw near to God, and her writing conveys encouragement for readers to be their authentic selves before God. She encourages experimentation and lightness in Christian spiritual practices. Read more »
Quick links:
You can listen to Lynne talk about these topics:
"Lynne's writing is beautiful. Her tone has such a note of hope and excitement about growth. It is gentle and affirming."
— a reader
"Dear Dr. Baab, You changed my life. It is only through God’s gift of the sabbath that I feel in my heart and soul that God loves me apart from anything I do."
— a reader of Sabbath Keeping
To receive an email alert when a new post is published, simply enter your email address below.