I am fortunate to live in a neighborhood with many tall trees. These deciduous trees are different from the trees of biblical times, but God cares for them just as diligently. Birds nest freely in our trees, although we have no storks(!) In the fall, our trees provide a lesson in letting go: they shed their leaves.

The green leaves of summer turn shades of ochre, russet and vivid yellow; they are released from their branches and spiral downward, where they dry out and crunch underfoot – providing an autumn accompaniment as we walk. These trees do not try to hang onto their leaves. They do not complain as their branches become barer. They do not pine as their hours of sunshine wane. They stand tall, calm sentinels of acceptance. The trees teach us how to let go and move on to a new season. 

While the pandemic may have put a crimp in our summer plans, we may still feel sad at bidding farewell to a time of relaxation and bare feet. I know I do. We may not feel quite ready for this seasonal shift: saying goodbye to our summer selves, putting away bathing suits and beach towels for another year, giving up long sunlit evenings lingering outside in a lawn chair. But the trees know it is time, and so do the squirrels scampering up their trunks, their cheeks bulging with nuts, their little claws snicking on the bark.

This is harvest time, a time of plump pumpkins in patches and baskets of apples and sweet cider and wood smoke and cornstalks in farmers' fields presided over by jaunty scarecrows. This is not a mourning time; it is a glorious time to celebrate God’s goodness, His bounty and His beauty. 

This is a time of sparkling dew-encrusted grass blades in the morning, of crisp sweater-wearing air in the evening, of cloudless nighttime skies strewn with diamond-chip stars. Like the tall trees that willingly shed their leaves each fall, let’s shed any regrets we have for a season that has come and gone. Let’s be deeply grateful for all the passing seasons we have lived and welcome those yet to come.

God Bless You!

Peggy