falling leaves and the wonder of acorns
As the first leaves of autumn dance in the air, I feel the strange convergence of delight and despair.
In our culture, this season has become a time of new beginnings. The gathering of the harvest marks the beginning of a new year of learning and growing both in school and church. This is a season of anticipation and possibility even as the bitter heat scorches what remains of the season and already we’re beginning to hear the familiar crunch of dying leaves beneath our feet.
As the leaves loose their grip, their free fall symbolizes endings. Also true is the beginning that is enabled in the newly opened space. Carrie Newcomer, folksinger poet, melodically offers the wisdom that,
“Leaves don’t fall, they just let go,
and makes a space for seeds to grow.”
Each autumn as I feel the tug of melancholy while witnessing the dance of shiny new shoes at the bus stop, I am reminded of the importance of the wilderness years. Having escaped the harrows of Pharaoh’s slavery, Moses’ people found themselves in a desert as hopeless as it was endless. The adults were crabby. They were trying to cope with the loss of even a slave’s sense of security, the death of all that was certain. Yet even in the desert, in the midst of the scramble for food and water, in the endless place between here and there, new life is evident. Babies emerge from the womb and squeal their first breath. Children build sandcastles and chase each other abandon. In the darkest night, in the valley of the shadow of death, even there we find shadows bearing witness to the dawn for it is in the pile of fallen leaves that we find the acorn.
One of the gifts of the information superhighway is perspective, and one of the perspectives that is helpful for me in this season of change is the awareness that in Australia, it’s springtime. In fact the school terms in Australia follow their harvest seasons, so that as we’re gearing up to begin again, Aussie students are sprinting towards the close of their third term. Although our Australian friends join us as we celebrate Easter, as we sing about bulbs bursting they are experiencing leaves falling. Hence they’ve offered to us the invitation to consider the addition of another season towards the end of Pentecost, a Season of Creation in which we recommit ourselves to care for the earth while their bulbs are bursting. In the coming weeks of September, we will honor our interconnectedness as we too pause to consider the wonder of the earth itself.
Our celebration of the Season of Creation is timely as we face the coming autumn. Long before the advent of the information superhighway, the wondrous gift of perspective was offered through the beauty of the seasons. And in this season of tumult, perspective is precious.
