Last Friday...

Last Friday I went for a walk earlier in the morning, before work to clear my head, gather my thoughts, and to throw some things around with God. I find that walking is one of the best activities for me to do this. The Big Guy sometimes even reveals to me little tidbits of wisdom.

This fall morning, I walked streets and sidewalks speckled with autumnal sunlight filtering thru the partially bare branches. I've been struggling a little bit recently, maybe you have guessed, in my trust and reliance in these situations when I am utterly out of control. This fall with this new job, in this new place, with new people all around, and an entirely new situation concerning my and Mike's income has forced me to either lean solely on the One who insists I do so, or drive myself crazy in the process. And as I walked along thru the patches of light, I did find a bit of truth...

Leaves on trees in the spring are new life, displays of healthy organisms, of food being produced and growth happening. Thru the summer, the leaves are sustained, filled out, and they soak up the light. And then in the fall, their gradual demise is ironically evident in the striking display of colors, before they are shed, dry and useless, to save the tree from the deadly cold of winter.

This sort of hibernation, this dying of a part of the organism to save the rest so that the new green growth of spring can happen, reminds me a bit of my faith walk. I go thru these times of growth, of warmth in the light, soaking up the life-giving food of the Spirit. These times of sustaining, of filling out my spiritual girth, expanding my horizons, learning new things. And now I find myself in another spiritual autumn, a dying of a season and a leading into another yet unseen. A time of the changing of my colors in preparation for a winter. I don't exactly know what's coming; it might be a long, bitter Minnesota winter, maybe a short, mild Virginia winter. But I realize something else too. When the leaves are shed and the branches are bare, the light is that much clearer, the shade is less and less, the darkness becomes light. The leaves and growth are good, essential, but sometimes they distract from the clarity of the light. It's in the winters of our faiths that we see and feel the light most clearly, maybe in the utter contrast of the coldness of doubt. In autumn, the leaves fall, we shed the distractions and see only the light. I look forward to another spring, but for right now, in this autumn leading to a winter, I will focus on the light, now seen so clearly thru the bare branches, as I crunch thru the leaves at my feet...