These fallen and frosted leaves are part of a much larger autumn scene: the birds flee, other animals burrow away, the ground seizes up, the plants don't grow and the trees are left bare. Maybe all of this loss causes us to be a bit more pensive this time of year. Loss is unavoidable. We understandably wish it were otherwise, but loss is part of living on this planet. Loss is like the ocean tide - it moves in and out of our lives. "Ebb and flow," we say.
Some losses are easily dealt with - we acknowledge them, maybe solve them, or simply move on past them. We lose a night's sleep, but have to function the next day. We lose keys, remotes, phones, wallets, and then we find them. We lose time with some distraction or pressing problem. We can lose our place in line or our place on a page. Loss is everywhere and everyday.
However, some losses are more serious, even life-threatening. The autumn trees (in our northern hemisphere anyway) now appear to be dead. But behind each of the fallen leaves there is the bud already in place and containing next April's leaf. Each miniature leaf will stay folded and safely tucked away against the winter blasts behind a hard shell. This closer autumn inspection might invite us to consider what's underneath or tucked away behind our own experience of loss.
I was recently talking with a friend who has just had a major cancer surgery and who today begins the chemo regimen that will take her through the holidays and into early March. After describing all of this she said, "But the blessings are falling like manna from the sky." She then spoke about the team of surgeons and doctors, the nurses, the people who are helping her to take care at home, the hospital pharmacists, house-keepers and technicians, her out-of-state adult children who call everyday, the presence of friends, the folks who promise prayers...
"But the blessings are falling like manna from the sky."
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| Gathering Manna in the Wilderness ~ German Bible ~1483 |
