It’s just starting to cool down here in Minnesota, though we topped at 80 degrees last week. The sticky, long, dog days of summer dredged deep into to September, and now in October the nights and early mornings are finally cool while the days leave us guessing and wearing layers.
But the trees . . .
The trees know winter is coming, and they’re preparing for it from the inside out.
I’m not quite sure how to process this knowledge that the trees have, but it feels important, kind of enormous. The trees flourish even (mostly?) in their dying. God has built Truth and theology into the leaves, and I want to sit at their roots and learn from them.
How do they know when to drop their guard of green and give into the process of dying to themselves? Why do they trust the timing, each and every year? Do they lean into it, or do they fight back, unwilling to give into the blaze of color?
The weather only slightly indicates a change. It’s cool, the breezes still, but deep down at their roots, the trees know major change is coming. They know they are to be robing themselves in color, preparing for a brand-new season of beauty, yet some remain green. Are they the ones fighting back, against what they truly are deep inside?
Sounds senseless, to fight to stay dusty and tired instead of bursting gold and red and orange. Casting off the wilted end-of-summer green. Embracing what is deep down in the core, the beauty He’s placed there to reveal in His time.
Maybe in the middle of my own everyday mess, mixed right into the frustration and feelings of being dried up and struggling to keep above water, He’s preparing me for something. Maybe He wants me to choose to take hold, to dig deeper, to look beyond the mess and frustration.
I’m tired of fighting back. I want to yield to Living color, the kind that only comes when dying to self came first.
May the change quietly filling the air spark the same in my heart. May I allow it to wash over my life, bolding and brightening each nook and cranny, sweeping the corners clean of staleness. May the cool breath of air fill my lungs as I breath in His grace, breathing out the old and allowing the new to take over.
May we learn, embrace, marvel at what the trees know.