How I admire the changes of autumn, the loveliness of leaves.
How I dislike the changes of my life, the lostness of leaving.
Leaves and changes are seasonal. For the trees and for my life.
I’ve left a home and changed location eighteen times since I’ve been married. And I struggle to find the strength and beauty in each transition…for I feel weak and ugly, tattered and worn, inside and out.
Then I look at the leaves so graceful, adorning their branch through the warmth of sunshine and the onslaught of storm. Their season is short, and the time draws near. The change is seen; from the outer edge it’s color transforms. Because something is taking place on the inside.
Their full change is imminent. Then, one final wind, a soft spiral down, and their life is over.
But there is next year. Trees will bud and blossom, leaves will appear, and their purpose and beauty will again be appreciated.
In looking and admiring, an analogy concocts. With every change, my self must die. Beauty in process.
To be awe-inspiring, and simply inspiring. Breathtaking, and inviting.
Begin, it must, from the inside out.
Till I can admire the loveliness of change in every leaving – a purpose, an appreciation, blossoming in every season.