Sunday, October 28, 2012

Letting Go, Part 3

"Everyone must take time to sit and watch the leaves turn."
Elizabeth Lawrence


As the Frankenstorm began its way up the coast of Florida, the skies turned gray. The wind whipped  up ocean waves. People were shooed off the beach. But football fans paid the weather no mind. There was partying in RV City to be done. 

 Johnson predicted there would be several downed trees in our neighborhood. Not willing to take even the smallest chance of possible damage, Sweetie parked the Lincoln which had just come home from the repair shop on the side of the house that has no trees anywhere around. That side of the house also has no driveway.  I sent up some prayers of gratitude for having the foresight to cut our big oaks down.  The yard looks barren,  but I didn't have to worry about a tree falling on the roof.

Maybe we were just too far inland, or maybe the storm lacked the ferocity that was predicted. There was enough wind to make the flags stand out straight, but I don't think the trees were in danger.  

"Let's grab a blanket and lay on the grass and look up," suggested Sweetie. And so we did. The cloud cover made it so we couldn't see much of anything.  But I noticed how small leaves danced across the breeze, with twists and turns and arabesques, like ballerinas.  Some swayed gently back and forth, while others seemed to take a nosedive straight down.  I thought about letting go.

I wondered how after they have served their purpose, the leaves let go and flutter to the ground. Or does the tree release them, with a soft kiss and note of thanks? There's a difference, isn't there in letting go and being let go.  A subtle yet significant difference.  

I'll have to think about this some more.

May you feel the breeze on your cheek, and hear the whisper of the One who says, "go, Child, go. Be all you can be."

Merry ME

1 comment:

wholly jeanne said...

I love the thought of y'all laying on the ground looking up at the leaves. I've often wondered why some leaves hang on throughout the winter while other trees go completely bare. What is it that gives some leaves such tenacity? And, like you say, is it the leaves or is it the tree? Either way, it is, like you say, all about letting go. Interesting, captivating thing to think about, this.