“We spend most of our time and energy in a kind of horizontal thinking. We move along the surface of things, but there are times when we stop. We sit still. We lose ourselves in a pile of leaves or its memory. We listen and breezes from a whole other world begin to whisper.”
— James Carroll
Walk along a familiar path and it’s transformed by the sight and smell of change.
There is the sweet aroma of fallen leaves in those desperate days between green and brown. Adorned in a hue of orange and red and gold, the trees reluctantly drop and in their nakedness they sadly stare down at the ground.
Drifting in slow-motion, the leaves, one-by-one, cascade to the ground. They gather together, stacked in the unity of their fate, swept by the midnight breezes.
My very life is often lost in the pile of leaves.
I was once full of life, green and fluttering in the wind. I soaked up the rains and basked in the sun. I was part of something beautiful and good and alive. And here I am, a sad reminder of things that were. My only accomplishment is yesterday. My only destiny a dark bag sitting on the curb.
The allegories of the Creator in Spring are abundant — new life, new hope, new direction. But God in the Fall seems distant.
Then I hear a voice in the high winds
“You are not alone. I will never leave you, nor forsake you. You are my beloved. Abide in me and I’ll abide in you.”
And suddenly I am inexplicably driven. An urge comes from the deepest passion of my soul. I see the pile of leaves and with four quick steps I leap into the air, all my good sense abandoned.
I am lost to the Savior.
And on this day, I am found.
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