Autumn Trees (And the Sacrament of Letting Go)
Slowly.
she celebrated the sacrament of letting go.
First she surrendered her
Green,
then the Orange, Yellow, and Red,
finally she let go of her Brown.
Shedding her last leaf
she stood empty and silent, stripped bare.
Leaning against the winter
sky
she began her vigil of trust.
And Jesus said:
And why worry about clothing? Think of the flowers
in the fields; they
don’t work or spin; yet not even Solomon
in all his regalia was
robed like one of these.
Shedding her last leaf
she watched its journey to the ground.
She stood in silence
wearing the color of emptiness,
her branches wondering;
you do not give
shade, with so much gone.
And Jesus said:
Do not be anxious
or overly concerned.
And then the sacrament of waiting began.
The sunrise and sunset watched with tenderness
clothing her with silhouettes
they kept her hope alive
they helped her understand that
her vulnerability
her dependence and need
her emptiness
her readiness to receive
were giving her a new kind of beauty.
Every morning and every evening
they stood in silence
and
celebrated together
the sacrament of waiting!
And Jesus said:
Now if that is how God clothes the grass in the field
which is here today
and thrown to the furnace tomorrow,
will he not much more look after you ...?
I worry too much. Autumn trees ask me not
to worry. They like Jesus, suggest trust rather than worn]. So often in
Autumn I want to go and lean my head against a tree and ask what it feels
like to lose so much, to be empty, so detached, to take off one’s
shoes that well, and then simply to stand and wait for God’s refilling.
It sounds so simple, so easy.
But it isn’t easy. It’s hard! But possible!
It is the sacrament of letting go that our hearts are hungering for. And once we’ve discovered hat we already posses enough grace to let go, trust begins to form in the center of who we are Then we can take off our shoes and stand empty and vulnerable, eager to receive God’s next gift.