Have you ever noticed
that trees are most beautiful
just before they sleep?
their impending rest
on display in gold and red hues
Massive quantities of leaves
ready to relinquish their grip
prepare for their journey to the ground
dust to dust
there to be transformed into food and fuel;
there is beauty and sadness here.
It’s hard not to look
to stare in wonder at it all;
what tender whispers blow through those leaves,
calling our name?
Inviting us to participate somehow.
Maybe we’re not all that different;
It seems the older we get, the more loss we experience
our grip turns weak and tentative
We’ve fallen too many times.
We all have to take the journey from branch to ground;
can we trust the wind to carry us to where we need to be?
can we trust that leaves will come back?
can we, like the leaves, trust the distance from branch to ground?
can we allow the wind to take us from our familiar grip?
can we abandon ourselves to the process of death and rebirth?
Jesus, Lord of the trees, knows.
He did this himself, entered into it with gusto
“for the joy set before him,” the old writer says
Can we see the joy in dying trees?
If death is the ultimate abandonment
the ultimate relinquishment
the apex of letting go
I can’t help but thinkthat even death He makes beautiful.