Letting Go

There is nothing quite like living in the desert to really mess with your seasonal mind.  I grew up in the Midwest, where October meant changing leaves, January meant snow, and April meant rain.   (And occasionally it also meant a blizzard, a tornado, and 80-degree weather all in the same week.)  You’d think that after living in Arizona for over 15 years I’d be used to 100-degree weather in fall and changing leaves in winter.  And I suppose to a degree I have.  Needing to wear gloves when it’s under 60 degrees is proof enough of that.

Yet, I was still struck with the oddity of unconventional desert seasons not so long ago as I sat near my son’s grave on a windy Saturday afternoon.  It almost seemed as if the sky was raining leaves, covering the ground around me.  I smiled to myself at the sight of it and looked up.  The tree above me was almost bare, with just a few leaves still hanging on.  Eventually those leaves would have to let go soon, because as us desert-dwellers know, the new buds will be coming in just a few short weeks.

As I began to wonder about that process of even why leaves fall, I heard God’s voice, as gentle as the wind rustling those leaves whisper, “Just let go.” 

“Of what, God?”  I asked.  “What am I supposed to let go of?”  

I was hoping it was something easy.  You know, like cleaning out some unused sheets in the linen closet or getting rid of the seven-year-old spices in my pantry.

But there was silence.

So I began to pray about it.  And pray about it.  And pray about it some more.  What things was I holding on to that needed to go in order to make room for new growth in my life?  What were those parts of my life that aren’t so pretty?  That were all dried up and brown and needed to fall?  I asked God to show me, but He was still silent.  I begged Him to reveal them to me.

And then…He did.  And you guessed it.  It was not very pretty, nor would it be easy to get rid of.

Pride.  

Selfishness.  

A spirit of comparison.  

My own expectations.   

Worldly gain. 

Lack of trust. 

MY plan, MY hopes, MY dreams.  

Ick.  Ick.  And double ick.

Now, I could go into depth about how I struggle with all these things, but to be honest, that’s really between me and God.  He knows.  I know.  And that’s enough.

But if we’re honest, don’t we all have areas in our life that are just…well, for lack of a better word, ICK?

As the week went on, curiosity got the better of me.  I mean, how really do leaves fall off a tree?  The teacher in me figured I’d better know in case some inquisitive little Kindergarten minds wanted to know someday.  Here’s what I found from britannica.com:

“Autumn leaves are not simply blown off trees but are separated from the plants in a highly controlled process. As day length shortens and temperatures cool, hormones within the plant are activated to begin the abscission process.  Chlorophyll production stops and the pigment starts to degrade, often revealing showy reds and yellows that were masked by green. The vessels that carry water to the leaf and sugars to the rest of the plant are closed off, and a layer of cells, known as the abscission layer, starts to grow between the leaf stalk and the twig holding it. These cells serve to slowly cut the leaf from the plant without leaving an open wound. As the leaves fall, the plant enters dormancy, saving its energy for the great bud burst of spring.”

Now, I’m no scientist, but this is actually pretty fascinating.   Those leaves have to be cut off from the food supply, which is why the barrier forms between the stem and what it’s holding onto.  That layer will eventually scab over and break the leaf from the tree.

All those icky things in my life would just keep growing and being fed if it weren’t for some kind of a barrier to stop them.  My friends, THAT is what Jesus did.  He put himself in the middle of me and my messiness.  He formed a barrier between my sin and me when He chose to come down to this earth and take MY sins upon HIS shoulders.  He willingly chose those open wounds to spare me of the pain of eternal death and life without him.   He lived so I could die to my sin and become alive in HIM.

 In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus. ~ Romans 6:11

What things are YOU holding onto that are prohibiting you from new growth and life full in Christ? It may take some time and some prayer and some getting honest.  But there’s good news:  the tree doesn’t just drop its leaves and stay bare.  When a tree “lets go”, so to speak, it also means there has been space created for something new.  Because letting go also means replacing.

When I thought about all that God wanted me to let go of, I also prayed about what could grow in its place.

HUMILITY for my pride.

COMPASSION for my selfishness.

ACCEPTANCE of others and self for my spirit of comparison.

A TRUST in God’s timing for my expectations.

A LOVE for what God offers for what the world offers.

HOPE for my lack of trust.

HIS plans, HIS dreams, HIS hopes for mine.

With new leaves like these, I’m praying the “great bud burst of spring” is just around the corner.