“You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen.”
— Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast
To be completely vulnerable, this passage sums up my feelings exactly: I dread the fall and winter. In my experience they've brought sickness and sadness and mourning. I try to find romance in the changing leaves, bundled clothing, fires burning and perfect weather, but I can't shake the heaviness of leaving green grass and all being right with the world.
So this fall, I'm hoping to turn a new leaf and to fall in love with a season that makes me so eager to see the promises of spring. Maybe I'll love fall for more than that this year; maybe I'll love it for the uniqueness of its beauty. This image of loving something for the mear sake of its creation reminds me of my favorite quote from an Anne Lamott book, Bird by Bird.
"What finally helped me was an image from a medieval monk, Brother Lawrence, who saw all of us as trees in winter, with little to give, stripped of leaves and color and growth, whom God loves unconditionally, anyway. My priest friend Margaret, who works with the aged and who shared this image with me, wanted me to see that even though these old people are no longer useful in any traditional meaning of the word, they are there to be loved unconditionally, like trees in winter."
Here's to us loving each other like trees in winter all year round.
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