In many ways, September feels like the busiest time of the year:

Hear now, O seeker of wisdom, the words of the sage Brené Brown, who observed the rhythm of the seasons and spoke thus: “In many ways, September feels like the busiest time of the year: The kids go back to school, work piles up after the summer’s dog days, and Thanksgiving is suddenly upon us.” Though her voice comes from our own age, her insight is ancient, for she touches upon the cycles of labor and rest, of duty and renewal, that have guided humankind since the dawn of time.

Behold the month of September, which stands not merely as a mark on the calendar, but as a turning of life’s great wheel. The warmth of summer begins to fade, the days shorten, and men and women return to their labors. Children are gathered again in schools, their minds sharpened like ploughs ready for the furrow. Work, delayed during the long leisure of the dog days, comes rushing back like a river breaking through a dam. The feast of Thanksgiving, though weeks away, casts its shadow forward, reminding all that the season of harvest and gratitude hastens quickly toward them. Thus, September becomes not a month of calm, but a crucible where the fires of responsibility burn brightly.

Consider the farmers of old, who understood the weight of this season. For them, autumn was the hour of decision: to reap the harvest in diligence, or to face the winter unprepared. Their bodies labored from dawn to dusk, for every missed moment meant hunger in the cold months ahead. Likewise, today’s men and women, though their fields are not always of soil, must tend the harvest of their own labors—papers, projects, lessons, and preparations. Brown’s words remind us that September is not merely busy by chance, but by the eternal design of cycles: it is the gathering-in of all that was sown before.

Think also of a real story: in the year 1940, when Britain stood against the gathering storm of war, September was no idle month. Children were sent back to school even as bombs fell, workers toiled in factories at relentless pace, and leaders prepared the people for the long struggle ahead. Life did not pause; rather, it quickened. Duty pressed upon every soul, and in the press of that busyness, the seeds of survival were planted. What Brown describes in the modern family calendar, history has shown on the grandest stage: that there are seasons when the world demands from us our fullest strength, lest we falter.

But despair not, for within this busyness lies not only burden but also blessing. For what is Thanksgiving if not the reward of labor, the fruit of diligence, the joy of shared abundance after toil? The rush of September, the piling of tasks, the return of duty—all these are the storm before the stillness, the weight before the release. Just as the trees shed their leaves to prepare for renewal, so do we press through this crowded season that we may later find rest, celebration, and gratitude.

Therefore, O listener, the lesson is this: Do not curse the busyness of September, nor shrink from its weight. Instead, see it as a sacred passage, a bridge between leisure and gratitude. Embrace the duties, guide the children, tend the labors, and prepare your spirit for the feast of thanks that lies ahead. The ancients would say, “He who sows in diligence shall reap in joy.” So too must we remember: the pressure of this season is not meant to break us, but to shape us into vessels of endurance and gratitude.

Practical action follows this truth: In the busyness, carve out moments of stillness each day, even as the farmer rests his plough for breath. In the piling of tasks, choose order over chaos, and gratitude over complaint. Teach the young not only to study, but also to pause and marvel at the turning of seasons. And as the weeks hasten toward Thanksgiving, do not wait for the feast to give thanks—practice gratitude daily, for even in the busiest hour, there is beauty to be found.

Thus let it be known: September is not a burden but a passage, not a storm but a proving ground. Walk through it with wisdom, and you will emerge stronger, grateful, and prepared to lift your eyes in true thanksgiving.