Unfolding

 

I've been here long enough that the trees at my home are teaching me their pattern.  The silver maple on the northwest corner of the house is the first to start releasing her leaves - in August!  It takes her until November to complete her work, while it is late October before her sister (pictured above) even gets started!  This year the October silver maple created an absolute riot of colors, unlike her cousin across the street, who opted for a brilliant crimson-only showing.  The ground around her looked like a magic carpet of color - incredible!  Next for letting go is the young oak on the south side near the garage, helped along by the squirrels who are harvesting every last acorn (and burying too many in my potted garden)!  Finally, in mid November, the Japanese Maple begins thinking about letting go.  After severe pruning in 2020, her leaves this autumn were electric scarlet - proof that beauty emerges even after tough experiences.  She has yet to release her leaves, and they remain a source of hope and encouragement as I look out my home office window and gaze at her beauty.

Perhaps you really can find great visions of beauty right outside your window - right where you are.  And perhaps beauty can emerge after a time of severe pruning.

November 15th is the beginning of Advent for Eastern Christians (as well as those of Celtic origins and a few random European churches).  Advent has long been my favorite church season, and so I join my Orthodox and Celtic kin in beginning forty days of Advent today.  I do so with relief (beauty and familiar rituals!) - joy (silence and service) - and a little trepidation, for Advent is a season of many things, including a time for letting go to make space for what has yet to manifest.  Easier said than done!  The trials and losses of the past twenty-one months strain my ability to keep hands and heart open, especially when faced with the temptation to clutch and hold onto something to keep it from changing or going away.  Change and uncertainty have been amplified to an extraordinary degree, especially this past year.  I see that most clearly in the church I serve - we have made changes in the past year that, without COVID, would have taken at least a decade to accomplish (if at all).  Like my Japanese Maple, the severe pruning at church has opened up beautiful possibilities - and the possibility of long-term vitality.  But the transformation was not easy, and more than once I was grateful for my pastoral seatbelt and hardhat (and occasionally my fire suit).

The same is true in my personal life.  Along with stress, fear and uncertainty, this past year also brought the birth of my granddaughter and many other blessings for my son and his family.  A course taught through Cleveland Clinic on how to improve one's quality of life while living with an autoimmune disorder was an invaluable aid in helping me better understand lifestyle changes that make a world of difference (sleep really is important)!  And I have come to (reluctantly) accept that I cannot WILL this congregation through the pandemic without challenges.  They have shown such kindness, flexibility and resilience since this nightmare began, but I can see that they are getting tired.  We are all getting very tired.  The only thing that isn't showing signs of exhaustion is the pandemic itself!  

And so, one step at a time, we persevere.  Soon they will join me in Advent.  Until then, I listen and pray.  This Advent may we keep our hearts open to behold and celebrate a transformative love that caused God to enter creation as a poor, utterly dependent human child - born during a time of great political unrest - who soon after birth became, with his family, refugees. If Matthew 25 is to be believed, we can find the Christ child today with his family fleeing any number of horrible situations throughout the world.  We can find the baby Jesus in countless homeless shelters...in places where people are alone and isolated...or sick and afraid.  The question isn't whether or not Christ is present in the world - but whether or not we have the courage to stop and turn toward Christ-in-our-midst and respond with open hands and hearts filled with gratitude and love.

With love and Advent blessings,

Kim

PS (12.15.21) - My, did I ever get the leaf leaving sequence wrong!  The oak looked like it was losing its leaves before the Japanese maple, but the reverse happened!  The maple dropped all its beautiful leaves, and the oak - well,  I'd estimate that at least half are still on the tree!  I still have much to learn about my home...