On my way to work last week, I kept getting distracted by the fall leaves. The deep reds, the burnt oranges, and the golden yellows were on either side of me just begging to be admired. Part of me wishes I could say these colors were a blur as I drove home, but the other part of me enjoyed the stop and go traffic because I was able to sit peacefully among the change from summer to fall. Who doesn’t love autumn? Richer colors, heavier foods, and cozier Sunday afternoons…what’s not to love? On twitter, I have been reading the joy so many are finding in fall and I have found myself agreeing. Fall brings out nature’s beauty in it’s own, perfect way. As I thought about fall, about how fall happens, it dawned on me:
There is beauty in death.
My heart came to a screeching halt. How can there be beauty in death? Isn’t death painful, ugly, and…and…death? But as I looked around me, I couldn’t deny the beauty of the dying leaves; leaves who had served their purpose for the season and needed to make room for the new growth. As I continue in my desert of humility, I know parts of my thinking, parts of my attitude, and parts of my heart must die in order to get on the exit ramp of this desert into the promised land. I’ve been throwing temper tantrums, stubbornly not moving forward, and circling around my entitlement because the idea of my pride dying is just scary and painful. I haven’t thought about the beauty in that death, or the richness of the new growth. I haven’t thought about the spring my heart will see once I’m on that exit ramp. I’ve been focusing too much on the cold, harsh winter that is imminent.
However, this reminder, this beautiful reminder, encourages me to continue with the process of dying to my will, my wants, and my should-have’s.
What are you loving about fall?