Leaf Removal

The last remnants of Fall clung to the trees while the other leaves blanketed the ground. Yellows and reds had yielded to shades of crispy brown, and despite the wonderful sound of my shoes shuffling through the dry leaves, it was clear a new season was on its way.

Walking on a favorite trail, I found it hard to see the path. Although a familiar route, the leaves shrouded the trail, making me have to guess which way to go. Fortunately, there were trail markings sporadically placed on the trees, but the leaves still made the journey difficult.

It reminded me of the spiritual walk I’m on, the way I’m trying to follow, and all the “leaves” that cover my path. Like the ones covering my shoes, there are leaves on my spiritual path which hide which way I should go. Once bright with promise, they now lie crumpled and colorless on the ground. Exciting creative ventures, vibrant friendships, and glistening dreams of one sort or another . . . leaves come in all shapes and sizes. Now they lie scattered before me, hiding the way forward. I’m left guessing which way to go.

Unlike my walk, the solution is to remove the leaves, push them aside and unearth the trail that lies beneath. It takes work to remove leaves, and mental and spiritual discipline to find the path again. It’s where it’s always been, but the leaves need to be cleared so we can commit to the way forward.

Soon, it will be Advent, the season before Christmas when we are invited to refocus on the way and commit, once again, our lives to a particular direction. If you’re like me, there are leaves of all kinds hiding the path. We just need to push them aside and get walking again.

All Saints' Day 2023

The sunlight shone through the colorful leaves better than any stained-glass window, and the sound of the leaves crunching beneath my shoes made me walk as if processing down a Cathedral’s center aisle. Breathing deeply, I drank the air as if it was living water. It was one of those days, one of those moments, when believing in the “creator of heaven and earth” was easy.

I knew it was only a matter of time before the oranges, yellows, and reds above me would be blown from their perches and join the sacred dance to the ground like whirling dervishes. The trees would become bare, and leaves turn brown. To everything there is a season, I reminded myself, but part of me wished there was another way.

I pulled myself back from my head to my heart and looked around with renewed appreciation. No, these leaves would not last, but there would be others. The leaves above would soon become part of the soil below. That soil would feed the trees so that they could bring forth a new canopy of shade and color. In that way, the leaves of today are a part of tomorrow’s, which will be a part of those that come after them.

I cannot help but think back on the people I’ve known, the great cloud of witnesses through whom God’s light shone in unmistakable ways. Often, I stood and looked in awe and wished they would be with me forever, but I learned early that they, like the leaves above me, would be blown into the sacred dance and away from my sight. I miss their color. I miss their shade. But I trust they remain a part of this circle of life. Someway, somehow, they remain, for everything is connected, and everything belongs.

More than any day of the year, this is the day I cling to that truth and cherish that hope.

Flags Unfurled

All the town came out to see. After a year of fundraising and construction the new flagpole in the village square was ready. The mayor and other city officials were assembled, as well as the local boy scout troop to lead the pledge of allegiance and a high school senior to sing the national anthem. With a drumroll, the large flag was hoisted into place, but it was a still morning and the flag drooped like a sleeping child on his mother’s shoulder. Even the most patriotic longed for more.

“It needs wind,” a child whispered to her mother, and she was right. Flags need wind to come to life. Boats need their sails filled if they’re ever going to reach their destination.

If we are honest, we need wind too. We need the help of something, or someone, if we are to unfold and come to life. I’m thinking of a teacher I know who sat quietly each morning before the students arrived only to unfurl into one of the finest educators I’ve known. There was also the socially awkward painter who found her inspiration once the brush was in her hand. There was also the minister who climbed into the pulpit and delivered a sermon without notes that left us all mesmerized. In each case, something other than their own innate talent, their own determination, blew through them.  

Each day we are hoisted into our various roles. Whether we head downstairs to make breakfast for our children, grab our coffee for our commute, or head to the studio, we have a choice: we can go through our days as if it all depends on us, or we can open ourselves to God’s “wind” or spirit and allow it to blow through us. Such wind will cause us to wave and twist in random ways. We may even snap and pop from time to time. But such is the way of a spirit-filled, or animated, life . . . one filled with air, an inspiration to all looking on.