There is peace here.
The birds haven’t spread their wings yet, and the squirrels are still tucked into tiny tree beds. My shoes do an early morning shuffle through the leaves, soaking up this damp air that lays heavy on my face. I swing a notebook in my hand, as I wait on the Lord for something, anything that will stir my spirit.
I snap this picture.
There’s a scattering of yellow and orange still holding onto life, staring at the fate of friends who have since let go. Perhaps those still breathing actually turn away, to face the sky in praise toward the Maker of the heavens and the universe.
Let everything that has breath praise the LORD! (Psalm 150:6)
Though these leaves, these lives undoubtedly see death happening all around, they don’t let go. I bet the view is spectacular up there.
And then one slips.
The heaviness in the air was too much to bear, I suppose. I watch the crinkled maple sway left, and see-saw right. I smile. Even a leaf can enjoy the ride on the way down. And now this leaf lays to rest in a bed where all the others have gone.
And soon the turn of the season will freeze this foliage that fertilizes new life in the Spring.
Look up. Whatever is raining on your parade, clouding your focus or heaven forbid, biting at your cheeks with the bitterness of a very long winter, turn away from the view of death in your situation.
Praise the heavens. This too shall pass. And there will be purpose here. One season is fertilizer for the next.