For everything there is a season... Ecclesiastes 3:1
We have left summer behind and now it is autumn. The yellow of the birch trees, the different shades of red and orange of the maples, and the green of the willows is startling. My orange maple is shedding its leaves on this late September day. Sorry to see them drop to the ground.
But it is the fragility of passing beauty… from summer to autumn, from autumn to winter. Repeating itself all over again next year, and the next.
It is hard to confront winter again. I love spring, summer, and autumn. But winter, it's so cold here. It feels like it’s never ending…
But that's where faith comes in. Knowing that spring may be just around the corner.
Faith is not an effort, a striving, a ceaseless seeking as so may earnest souls suppose. But rather a letting go, an abandonment, an abiding rest in God that nothing, not even the soul's shortcomings can disturb. —Arthur Benoni Evans
She celebrated the sacrament of letting go. First, she surrendered her green then her orange, yellow and red. Finally, she let go of her brown.
Shedding her last leaf, she stood empty and silent, stripped bare. Her branches wondering: How do give shade with so much gone? Leaning against the winter sky, she began her vigil of trust.
And then, the sacrament of waiting began. The sunrise and sunset watched with tenderness, clothing her with silhouettes that kept her hope alive. They helped her understand that her vulnerability, her dependence and need, her emptiness, her readiness to relinquish were giving her a new kind of beauty.
Just as a tree in autumn, appears to dead. God as its Creator is stirring in the silence to bring forth life once more. And that tree will once again bear much fruit… it will be stronger that before.
Yes, there will be pain. There will be pressure. There will be tears. But those are only birth pains of love.
So, she entrusts herself to the God who loves her, and in the relinquishment, she finds herself now arrayed in his garment of everlasting beauty.
The Sacrament of Letting God —Macrina Widerkehr – italicized sections by Julie Miller