by Lindsey Funtik, Coordinator of Volunteer Ministries, Ashland First United Methodist Church, Ashland, Ohio.
Artistic God of All Seasons,
To watch the leaves in my neighbors' yard change is to reflect on Your being, not in that You are changing (You've always been the same and that helps the world make some sort of sense), but in that You are multi-faceted, still being revealed to eyes that need reminded year after year after year. We've seen this before, and yet here we are with stolen breath as we observe the rhythm tapping on, as we experience anew the slow, churning movement of a reality we only believe is fast. The truth is that You are infinitely patient and I don't think You mind showing off a little.
"Wow!" I say, "That tiny spider just danced through this chilly breeze with such flair!"
"Wow!" I say, "There's a melancholy so delicious in the shift from green to gold and orange and audacious red!"
"Wow!" I say, "I'm just now remembering, as decay enfolds me in her cozy arms, that death can be beautiful!"
I think I hear Your voice in the tenacious cricket that just shuffled into the crack in my baseboard, hiding from the temperature's turn:
"Yes! Creation sings and we are now grabbing your fickle attention!"
"Yes! Seasons pass my baton and it is not an accident that the sun leaks into, encourages, that color!"
"Yes! Again and again I will remind you that death must come before resurrection, but the laying down, the surrender, is something to behold!"
Thanks to the Master Painter with blood on Her thumbs. Paint my forehead. Mark me as Yours, again, this autumn.
Cross-Posted from "Reflections on Faith, Words, and The Holiness of Today"