BLOG; thoughts on life.
Shedding.
Leaves are falling. Colors are turning. We are (very quickly) moving into my favorite season; f a l l. There is something so magical to me about the transformation that completely encompasses our daily lives. The air is cooler, the colors brighter, & the first fire dazzling off its wondrous aroma and crackling sounds. I so love F A L L.
But today, as I sit reflecting on my own current (and quite chaotic) transformation, I am stoped by a loud hustling of orange, yellow, red, brown leaves falling from the massive oak trees outside my window. Leaf after leaf falling off the tree’s big, now barren, branches.
The word “shedding” instantly comes to mind.
How natural this “shedding” is for the trees. So beautifully & rhythmically a tree completely transforms from its once glowing green leaves to yellow to orange to red to brown to n o t h i n g. Just like that, a tree is left standing bare and vulnerable; ready to embrace the frigid winter with hopes of a life-giving spring.
How deeply my soul resonates with this “shedding.”
This releasing of identity, plans, dreams, schedules, expectations… all of it slowly leaving my grip, my control. Slowing transforming before my very eyes. But oh how UN-natural this shedding feels. I, unlike the trees, cling to my beautifully colored leaves. The work and investment I have spent an entire season growing and nurturing and producing; crinkled leaf by crinkled leaf fights its way out my tightly closed grip. I know in my heart, chasing these crinkled leaves won’t make them stay; for a season has passed and new one yet to begin.
& So, today, as I wrestle with my crinkled pile of leaves that have welcomed transformation far better than I; I am forced to find a way to embrace the “shedding.” To allow the beautiful yellows and reds and oranges to fall to the ground while I, nakedly and quite vulnerably, await the hope of spring. But the surprising sensation that exists in this moment is not of remorse or fear or anger (though they do pass through); but rather it is one of f r e e d o m. One Of peace. Of hope. Of J O Y.
A deep, unexplainable joy is found in the transformational process of shedding.
It’s a joy I didn’t quite expect & one that comes as quickly and as steadily as the crinkled leaves fall from my hands.
& So fellow journeyer, I remind you, too, of the trees natural shedding transformation through seasons of life. Through seasons of life and growth & seasons of loss and death.
Let us, then, season after season, shed what needs to be shed while making room for the sacred rest, vulnerability, and bareness that must take place before the spring’s grand (and quite beautiful) arrival.