Apples, Honey, and the Art of New Beginnings

Florida life gives us a perpetual summer. The Gregorian Calendar is used throughout most of the world, and the date tells me fall is near. At 6 a.m. each day, while I’m standing in the wet grass in my yard waiting for my guide dog pup in training Betty to do her business, I scan the black sky, dotted with stars and planets that scatter around the moon.

Today, the Moon in its waning crescent phase was between Jupiter and the twin stars Pollux and Castor. Tomorrow, I’ll be treated to another astronomical display as the planetary parade of Venus, Jupiter, Uranus, Neptune, and Saturn across the sky prepare for the Sept. 22 Autumn Equinox.

The daily high has been 91 most days lately, but I feel the wind blowing differently. The gift of lower humidity means that most of the neighborhood walkers – humans and canines – walk lighter, peppier, and smile more.

It seems as if everyone can sense that something new is in the air, a rebirth of sorts. The anticipatory act of patiently waiting heightens our senses. The setting of the sun before 8 p.m., a gaggle of geese splashing in the lake in front of our house, baby ducks who’ve survived the predatory night herons, and amber evening light that just looks like fall feel like rewards. For what, I’m not sure, but September calls us to join the lockstep of a new rhythm.

The evening sky with atumnal shades of orange tease that fall is near.

In our house, September also means renewal. This year Rosh Hashanah begins Sept. 22, the same day as fall. The Jewish New Year is celebrated by ritual gatherings, attendance of High Holy Day services, and apples dipped in honey, as Jews pray for hope and sweetness in the days ahead.

This form of renewal doesn’t wait until Jan. 1. Its arrival at the turning of the season reminds us that fresh beginnings don’t always follow a single calendar.

For almost 33 years, I’ve shared my life with a man who speaks faith in a language different from my own. He is Jewish. I am Catholic. Our whirlwind courtship after meeting at a beach bar had us talking about marriage within 6 months of dating. We quickly acknowledged our religious differences, and we committed to forging a path toward understand and respect of each other’s religions.

Religious traditions can seem impossible to merge, but we embraced common themes that are present in Judaism and Catholicism. What once felt complicated has become one of the deepest strengths of our marriage.

Renewal, I’ve learned, isn’t about sameness. It’s about honoring what makes each of us unique, while still finding the courage and tenderness to return to each other. I’ve learned to recite the Hebrew words we when saying the kiddush and hamotzi blessings for wine and bread. When Rick attends mass with me, he joins me in reciting the prayers of adoration, contrition, thanksgiving, and supplication.

The expression, “Two things can be true at the same time,” has been spoken often in recent days, as we acknowledge continued violent acts that perpetuate our society. The same can be true with religion. Rick and I perform our religious rituals, not in competition with each other, but in conversation.

That is also a form of renewal. It’s a reminder of the respect we hold for each other, that allows us both to worship authentically. That is the joy of building a shared life that holds more than one type of sacred.

We are now stepping more intentionally into that truth. Together, my husband and I are shaping a project that is part story and part guide for those who are navigating interfaith marriages or simply seeking to build bridges across differences. It’s still early, still ripening, but it feels like a continuation of what our life together has always been: a story of renewal, acceptance, and love.

And maybe that’s what renewal really is. Not just fresh starts, but the willingness to write the next chapter, even when the ending hasn’t yet revealed itself.

If you’re here simply because you love stories, I’m glad you’ve found your way to my corner of the internet. And if you’ve ever wondered about telling your own story, I’ve started sharing lessons from my memoir course with paid subscribers on Thursdays. Last week we explored the power of memoir; this week we’ll dive into how you can empower others through your personal narrative.

But for today, wherever you are, whatever you carry, I hope you’ll pause long enough to taste the sweetness of renewal.