Autumn - by Donna Green 

Autumn -— Death
 
I rarely paid attention to the aging in myself until I found my energy levels waning and parts of my body refusing to function as it should.  I guess I don’t fear death itself as much as the dying process with it’s potential for pain, incompetency, dependency or immobility.  Albert Schweitzer — The main question in life is: “How do you feel about death?  Everything that captivates us and engages us is only of temporary worth.  In an instant it may become utterly valueless.”  The reality of our mortality can put all of life into quick perspective.
 
I guess autumn makes me feel sad and lonely.  The leaves that fall from the trees are subtle reminders of the many things I have been asked to let go of.  Every time I must surrender something, I connect with my death — the ultimate moment of letting go. 
 
I remember our fall picnics and outings to take advantage of seeing the glorious colors of fall.  I remember the happy memories as a child and then with my children, seeing the radiant trees ablaze with color.  I remember walking on the dried leaves on the ground and smelling the distinct aroma of dried leaves.  I watched the leaves gaily and merrily dance to the ground as the breeze stripped the trees of their leaves.  I am astounded at how easily the trees let go of their treasures and the contrast of my tight grasp on life.
 
Autumn might seem a harsh reminder of death, we can also be encouraged to enter into the mystery of eternal life.  A deeper truth is beyond the appearance of death. 
 
Dead leaves are transformed by snow and rain to rich humus for new growth.  The barren branches bear potential for new growth in their terminal buds.  The ground lies fallow, but is resting and gaining in nutrients for new life in the spring.  Autumn is a necessary transition between summer’s fruitfulness and spring’s new life.  No new growth will come unless autumn agrees to let go of what has been.  The same is true in our lives.
 
As I think about death and letting go I am called to reflect on the birthing process.  I was completely happy in my mother’s womb and all my needs were met.  If I had the option I probably would not have chosen birth.  I’m so thankful I was birthed because of the growth and experiences through the years. 
 
Every time I am called to let go of something safe, familiar and secure I am birthed again.  Each radical change in my life is a summons to grow to greater fullness, to a more complete fullness of my inner self.  The more drastic the change, the more potential to discover another aspect of my inner self.  Much of this growth depends on whether I give myself to the process of change or run from it with my fears and insecurities.
 
The dying of my physical body challenges my whole experience of life.  It recreates the transition from womb to life.  I will naturally have fears and anxieties about how I will die and about my unknown future.  I need to confront these and befriend the reality of the unknown.  I must trust that dying will take me through to something wonderful a waiting and go toward it with all my heart.
 
I can reflect back on the insecurities and know God was always with me — then be at peace with the anxieties and fears and trust that God will see me through.  The face of autumn and her strength of surrender can be a source of encouragement for my entry into new life.
 
Life is filled with ongoing change and ever deepening growth.  The falling leaves of autumn remind me of this.  As I grow in accepting my mortality I also need to appreciate with reverence everyone and everything that is a part of my life.  I am challenged to live fully even as I accept the truth of my dying.  I need to celebrate life’s moments as they come, enjoy with reverence the beauty of each day, live more simply and freely because I know each moment is part of an eternal process of becoming.
 
Each autumn can be a source of enrichment.  The season can invite me to pause for a While in my busy life and face the deeper issues of the future.  Celebrate autumn.  Its message has the power to ripen me for the final harvest.
 
Donna Green