art of trusting

The first trees that let go of their leaves are the most courageous.

How do they have no fear of the change or the unknown?

Don't they know it will be months until they bloom again?

Does that not shake them?

See, the trees have mastered the art of trusting. They feel the dry air, the shift in the stratosphere, the cooling temperature and they smile.

Now is the time for beauty.

The time for them to rest. The time for survival. 

The trees have been gifted a magical force that helps them survive the freezing temperatures of winter. They are willing to surrender their identity of evergreen beauty. They have lived enough winters to know this is merely temporary, that seasons come and seasons go. 

So the air shifts and so do the trees. The life pulsing through their veins moves slower. The soft leaves dehydrate and become crispy. Vivid colors overtake these trees of strength and onlookers marvel. Because when something or someone goes through a season of change it is absolutely stunning, despite the inner turmoil, as they surrender their wills to the one that is greater than them. 

It is the inside of the tree that does the most wonderful thing. The very nature of the cell changes to become more pliable, chemical reactions cause the starch to turn into sugar creating a natural antifreeze and lastly the liquid of a tree becomes like glass to remain a liquid and avoid freezing. 

It is this miracle that allows a tree to survive winter. 

It is the trust that awes me and leads me to believe that the trees that let go of their leaves first are the most courageous. And I realize I am called to be like the tree. The air is shifting and the temperature is cooling, instead of allowing my heart to panic at the season to come, it ought to smile.

Now is the time for rest. Because the work that God has done this summer to change the very core of my being and the work He will do in preparation for the hunkering down of winter will allow me to survive. 

For a moment, I thought I was the leaves. That the tree was letting go of me, that I would fall to the ground and be only a remnant of beauty, only something that thrived in the abundant months of summer. And there was despair. 

But then I realized, I am the tree. The leaves are the things I must let go of and surrender. They are the things that are not bad but not what the Lord is calling me to do. They are the things that hold me back from being all that God has called me to be. They are my fears - the ones that cause me to doubt the goodness of God. They are my insecurities - the ones that hold me back from being all that I need to be. They are the walls that I build - the ones I believe will keep me safe, but truly only suffocate me. 

And it is incredible that God built nature with a need for rest. I read a quote a few days ago that sticks with me, "Nothing in nature blooms all year long, so don't expect yourself to do so." The God who created beauty, created it for times of dormancy, for times of rest.  Just as He created me for times of rest. If the God of abundance created us to restore and refresh, then why do we feel condemned when we do not do all the things the world has given us to do?

And the thing is, you cannot stop the coming of winter. No matter how hard you try, no matter what you do it is inevitable. So the trees teach us the art of beautiful surrender. They allow a glorious work to be done in them so that when Spring comes, they again can show us splendor. 

Despite what is happening in our lives, whether we have filled our time with too much, if God is prompting a season of rest and you are wearing thin, it is not a call to push yourself to the point of exhaustion, it is time to surrender to the will of the Giver of every good and perfect gift, and trust that He is calling you to a time of restoration, not of condemnation. 

As my leaves turn, I will trust that God is all good and that the impending winter is a call for rest for my soul. I can trust that He will take me in the shadow of his wing and hold me close in the terror of the winds and deadly pestilence that stalks the night. Because no, God doesn't end the winters, instead he shows up in the midst of the winter and blankets me with snows and clothes me in comfort. 

So, I lay me down. I surrender my knowing, I surrender all of me in exchange for all of Him. So that He can take this leaking soul and fill it with His greatness and glory. I let go of what I thought was my splendor in exchange for rest. Soon, he will fill me with more, so that these dry bones will live again and these heavy lungs will breathe in deep. I have prayed that He would take me where my trust is without borders, so here I am, borderless and afraid, falling wonderfully into His grace.