Letting go of The Leaves
Missouri had a long winter, much like most of the Midwest. It was our first winter here since moving last year. The kids had over ten snow days keeping them home from school, and the low temps kept us stir crazy. The locals assured me this was not the norm. We shall see if next winter that statement proves true.
We had moved into our new house towards the end of October. Many of the leaves had already fallen from the big tree that sits in our front yard, fading, just like the memories from the previous summer. When the weather started to warm and the seasons changed, I was anxious to see what this tree would look like in full bloom. Day after day I passed the tree as I walked to the bus stop to get the kids. Day after day the branches sat bare. Until one afternoon, I stood waiting for the kids to get home. I looked up, surprised to see the tree had already bloomed. And I missed it! I was excited to be looking at a tree with much more life, but saddened I missed something I had eagerly been looking forward to.
Isn’t that how life is though? In waiting and longing for the blooming, we often miss it. It’s hard to walk through life with eyes wide open, taking in the everyday gifts, when we are so focused on the next task. The appointment that needs to be made for the child with the wart that has been bothering him for weeks, the gifts that need to be bought and wrapped for the child with a birthday this month, the cards waiting to be sent to relatives, the bathroom that needs to be painted, etc. I long to be present enough in everyday moments where I’m not missing the blooming that has taken place in my own front yard.
When our children were babies, I was very adamant about naps. It wasn’t that they had to be at a certain time, or I couldn’t be flexible if the schedule called for it, but I knew what happened when babies and toddlers didn’t get enough sleep. They got overtired. My husband used to laugh at me, saying I had made that up, and “overtired” wasn’t a thing. Let’s just say I was the one who read the sleep training books, not him, otherwise he would have indeed known it was. A rested baby is more restful, and a tired baby is restless. If I’m not keeping a rested state, then of course I will feel out of sorts and tired; I will miss the bloom.
I found myself longing for the bloom because when spring comes, things don’t feel dead anymore. However, the tree was never dead. It was in a process similar to hibernation called dormancy. Everything within the plant slows down. The trees don’t need the leaves which would require energy to maintain. I long to take my own restless cues and know when I need to slow down; when I need to lose the leaves that are using the energy I don’t have to give; that I would stop praying for productivity and instead pray for a day living in the abundance God’s love promises.
We are currently in baseball season, so everyday life revolves around practices, games, and tournaments. Let’s not forget the makeup games because springtime brings forth showers. I’ve found myself longing for summer. Summer seems to be a time for slowing down. If I’m being honest with myself, that’s not completely true. Our baseball season runs into July, and we have family visiting at the beginning and the end of June, my husband will be helping at a youth summer camp at the beginning of July, and then I head off to a conference. Before I know it, August will be here.
I don’t want the end of summer to come, and feel as if I’ve missed the blooming in front of me. The 5th grader who will bloom into a middle schooler; the toothless kid who will soon have two adult teeth filling those gaps and whose little boy looks will be changed forever. Even though the upcoming season already screams busy, I’m determined to slow down this summer. Savor the everyday small moments, letting go of the leaves draining my energy. Sit amongst the wet beach towels strung on my furniture, popsicle sticks on my yard instead of the trash, and the bickering that will take place when siblings are together too much. To soak it in, to catch the bloom, before it withers away, presenting a new season.
