A priest was in charge of the garden within a famous cathedral. he had been given the job because he loved the flowers, shrubs, and trees. Next to the cathedral there was another, smaller church where there lived a very old retired pastor. One day, when the priest was expecting some special guests, he took extra care in tending to the garden. He pulled the weeds, trimmed the shrubs, combed the moss, and spent a long time meticulously raking up and carefully arranging all the dry autumn leaves. As he worked, the retired pator watched him with interest from across the wall that separated the churches.
When he had finished, the priest stood back to admire his work. "isn't it beautiful," he called out to the old priest. "yes," replied the old man, "but there is something missing. Help me over this wall and I'll put it right for you."
The priest lifted the old fellow over and set him down. Slowly, the pastor walked to the tree near the front of the church, grabbed it by the trunk and shook it. Leaves showered down all over the garden.
Autumn tells a beautiful story. The nights are longer, the air is colder. The breeze has a distinct bite to it. Nature follows its own internal directive: "Slow down, it seems to call. Ponder the inward, rather than the outward. Return. Be quiet. Take rest."
Autumn is telling us something important. Autumn fires something in our imagination that can sustain us as spiritual people. With its blustery days, its dropping temperatures, its slowly freezing ponds and rivers, its long, dark nights, and its beautiful, falling leaves, Autumn tells us the story of Nature's way, in which all individual lives wind down, and return, each in its own time, each in its own way, to the earth.
This is a difficult story, and though it is the leaves that tell it-and they are truly eloquent-it is a story for all souls. It reminds us that our lives our not whole if the story we tell is only about holding on. If our story does not allow us to let go gracefully, then we do ourselves a spiritual disservice. For, in the end, we are just like leaves, swirling in autumn wind, gently bound for spinning earth.
God prays for us as we reflect: “Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them. Then all the leaves of the woods will sing for joy; they will sing before the Lord.” (Psalm 96:12-13)
Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine friends who struggle with letting go the neighborhood church, the grief of departed friends, the worry of finding a job, the disease that weakens immune systems, the resentments of long ago, the rudeness of trampling others down. Give us a wisdom that comes with prayer that allows us to gently let it go
