i am looking out my office window at the tiny tree that was a stick shooting up from the ground when we moved here and is now a lovely tree five years later.
this tree has my attention for a plethora of reasons, first being that i’d like to avoid the things on my to-do list just a few minutes more. and while the consistent screaming of my two-year-old exploding through the monitor with its melodic chorus of “no mamma no nap no me sleep”, would lull any layman into a peaceful round of yoga and green tea,my mind is doing it’s best to wander towards things i enjoy. trees in fall are something i enjoy.
this tree has just started to give in to fall’s wooing. she has felt the crisp air and has noticed that the sun has started to have its chamomile tea and head down for some shut-eye just a bit before it’s normal schedule. she has taken note, but it wasn’t until this week that she took the dive, gathering up the courage and strength to change. it’s really just the outer tips of two or three branches that have begun to go from green to that deep burnt rose, and a few who were first to succumb have progressed to the deep plumb. but it has begun, and there’s no turning back now.
the trees in autumn tell me two things: change can be beautiful and it is okay to fall.
i have been “in progress” for years; thinking, reading, and processing all that is happening around me with the speed of an overgrown turtle with digestive issues. through these years i have continued to think about who God made me to be and how he might use me in this world he has fashioned. it has been years since i have felt the freedom to be uniquely me. i have felt compressed by the expectations both spoken and implied by those around me. then add in the superbly loud and demanding voice of that woman in my head (who is a combination of all the best qualities of every woman i have ever known) who tells me i don’t measure up.
now, like the tree outside my window, i’m allowing my leaves to change color. it is really scary and i don’t know if those around me will love my new look, but i know it is unfair to both myself and them to keep allowing them to foster a relationship with a farce.
so, i am going to attempt to give in to the cycle that means certain death to some parts of me now to make room for the new growth that will emerge come spring. and while i may fail at new things and see parts of me fall away, my tree is not defined by what has fallen, but rather in what remains. i remain. i remain a child created in love: by love and for love. i remain a woman who fights for truth. i will be a person who rejoices with those who rejoice and mourns with those who mourn as long as i am on this earth, and this will only change someday because the place i am headed has no mourning. i am strong because i have walked through darkness and seen that the darkness cannot overcome the light.
giving in also means changing colors. it is beautiful. i will speak of how God loves every. single. person. i want to breathe truth into the lies we have become married to, so that we might experience freedom and walk in a manner worthy of our calling. i want to cry with you and laugh with you because rejoicing and mourning do not politely rsvp. let’s admit we are broken and messed up and a work-in-progress, because i’m convinced the process will reveal even more beauty than the “finished” product.
the process outside my window is breathtaking and i wouldn’t trade it.