The Trees and I.

This time of year, the trees seem to lose.

They become completely vulnerable to the elements.

Their covering falls, and they are laid bare.

Completely naked to the judging winds that blow its fragile frame violently.

Why would anyone choose this state?

I am often jealous of the trees.

We were jealous of the trees in the beginning

For when we felt shame,

we went to the leaves.

I become jealous of their lack.

Jealous of their bareness.

Jealous of their simple frame.

For I know my own.

And at least in their lack, they are truly seen.

I wonder what that would be like.

To be bare. 

To forgo the shield of green covering.

For there is something majestic about the stark.

Something admirable.

Something captivating.

Perhaps I find comfort in the trees.

I am relieved to know that even in the loss

In the losing

In the lost…… There is hope.

That though the leaves fall and the winter comes, there will once again be growth.

And maybe the Beauty isn’t in the spring itself.

But in the resurrection process that we all witnessed through the Fall.

In the losing it all to gain it all.

For the spring wouldn’t be as beautiful if we did not know from which it came.

And maybe our beauty isn’t in the outcome.

Maybe it is the process of renewing the stark

Renewing the dark.

Because taking nothing, and making it beautiful is a miracle. 

And beauty is found in miracles.

In the miraculous.

And whenever I choose to be a tree with no covering

I am an awaiting miracle.

Fall brings me so much hope.

For I know I will rise again.