September 30, 2015
It's that time of year when M (aka - my wife) and I walk a lot. And we marvel at a great many things. Yes, there is much seriousness to discuss (and we do), but M is a constant marveler, and her infectious, child like infatuation with the elements of nature warms my heart with bright, golden beams of nostalgia and joy. The trees, the leaves, the flowers and the rustling of the wind. She seems to drink in the vision of them all like a blind person receiving sight for the first time.
"You know what's great?" she remarked as we started picking out the trees that were just beginning to show their first blush of fall, leafy splendor. "We know which trees now."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I mean, we've walked here long enough to know which trees will turn first. There's something lovely about that."
And there is. There's something lovely about knowing, isn't there? About knowing the fall leaves will faithfully create a canopy of colors in the trees, before their branches release them to the ground and bless the town with additional layers of astonishing, picturesque beauty.
And it's like God. How He's faithful in letting things fall from our lives while creating a further and more felt beauty. Yes, the branches will become bare, and we will mourn the loss. But He doesn't let winter remain forever. He promises spring, and spring arrives. The trees will be full again, the buds will blossom, the birds will build their homes.
Hope will be reclaimed, and glory will be given.