Lessons learned from leaves

  • It’s like one of my favorite (non-Orthodox) books says: Any small thing can save you. But some­times it takes a whole bunch of them. Any you have to pay attention.

    We don’t have the thrill of Octo­ber still before us. We had a hard rain and a blus­tery day, and most of the bril­liantly col­ored leaves are off the trees. But the days are still crisp rather than chilly, and the light and air have that feel that you only get at this time of year.

    So I decided to walk to my errand at the phar­macy rather than take the car. And it worked for a while. I stopped think­ing of the moun­tain of work that I’ve done and the other moun­tain of work that I still have to do.

    But then those thoughts came intrud­ing back in. I found I was walk­ing faster, head down, eyes on the pave­ment. What about that email I sent? What will I say in that phone con­ver­sa­tion? Should I fol­low up on this? I bet­ter fig­ure out that other thing!

    I was inter­rupted by a scratchy cacoph­ony behind me. Look­ing back at the street I had just crossed, I saw a lit­tle Nascar race of leaves com­ing along the road, caught up by one of those very iso­lated pock­ets of wind that reached them between the houses and trees. It had set them all in motion at the same time, and they twirled and bumped along at a mighty pace as if each was try­ing to get to the fin­ish line first.

    “What fin­ish line?” I thought. They’re dead leaves. What’s the hurry? A month ago, they were vital and busy; now they’re dead and busy. A month from now they’ll be gone and no one will quite know where they went. So what’s the rush?

    And that seemed like it was worth reflect­ing on. And so I man­aged to slowwww down a lit­tle and take my eyes off the pavement.

    As the old hymn says:
    This is my Father’s world,
    The birds their car­ols raise,
    The morn­ing light, the lily white,
    Declare their maker’s praise.
    This is my Father’s world:
    He shines in all that’s fair;
    In the rustling grass I hear him pass;
    He speaks to me everywhere.


    Related posts:

    1. Dog with leaves
    2. A day out: What have we learned today?
    3. St. Sisoes
    4. The dog, the band and blogging
    5. Late Sep­tem­ber

    November 4th, 2009 | Grace | 6 Comments |

6 Responses and Counting...

  • Anam Cara 11.04.2009

    Some­thing all of us who live inside the belt­way need to remem­ber. Thank you for that observation.

    It goes nicely with “Con­sider the lilies of the field. They nei­ther toil nor reap.…” which I will be doing for 9 days.

    I am med­i­tat­ing on Proverbs 25:16 “If you find honey, eat just enough–too much of it, and you will vomit.”

    We leave for a Caribbean cruise tomor­row and I must mem­o­rize this before I face the food on board. : )

  • Gretchen­joanna

    What is the rush, indeed…
    Thank you for a good image to remind us of our call­ing. I can’t see Christ rac­ing along like those leaves.

  • s-p

    Good thoughts, nice images. Thanks for the reminder of one of my favorite hymns on top of it all.

  • Grace

    s-p: :-)

    I thought some­one would prob­a­bly have that reac­tion. There are some of those oldies that make you happy when­ever you hear them.

  • Grace

    Anam:
    Love the quote for those about to board a cruise. I’ll say this: Last cruise I went on, I couldn’t help notic­ing that the whole “abun­dant and first-rate” food thing that cruises used to do has been adjusted for their low­ered profit mar­gins. Not that a per­son couldn’t still find enough honey to make them barf — it would just take more work.

    Lovely metaphor, no? I’m *such* a lady!

    Enjoy your cruise. I’ll be a jeal­ous land-lubber (sigh).

  • George Pat­sourakos

    We need to slow down from our rapidly-paced lifestyle and take time to reflect on every­thing beau­ti­ful that God has cre­ated — flow­ers, streams, moun­tains, trees,etc.

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