By Jenna Ebener
A reflection
I love the fall. I live in Colorado for a reason; I can never get enough of nature. I always enjoy being outside, but there is something about the crispness of fall that is so refreshing for me. I revel in the chill in the air after the heat of summer. I love being able to cozy up in a sweatshirt and under a soft blanket. I soak in the warmth of bonfires. I smell the distinct scent of turning leaves. I cannot get enough of seeing the rarely bare mountains against a bright blue sky. However, my favorite part of fall is the colors of the leaves.
No matter where you go in the United States, if you go somewhere that has a fall season, it is beautiful. As much as I love Colorado, I still miss the vibrant reds and oranges that are so common in the packed forests of the Midwest. Yet, out here, we have vibrant yellows swathed in Aspen trees that somehow shimmer in the mountain breeze. Out West, the distinct colors stand out among the vast evergreens. Each region seems to have its own distinct beauty.
I am fascinated by the thought that there is so much beauty right before death. The vibrant colors of fall will soon shift to signs of decay — brown leaves, bare trees and dead grass. While winter has its own kind of beauty, the lack of colors often becomes depressing, leaving many people wishing for the new growth of spring.
Yet, I think this transformation is a beautiful metaphor. Do we allow our colors to brighten the older we get? Are we allowing God to transform us from uniform green to unique colors? Even if our bodies grow fragile like dead leaves, do we recognize that the core of who we are is still beautiful? For the more we age, the more we can show others how life has transformed us into beings even more beautiful than the day we were born.
Now, let us consider the collective beauty of the fall leaves. I can marvel at both the vibrancy of a single leaf as well as the breathtaking wonder of an entire forest of changing leaves. Each leaf is an essential part of the whole. When one leaf falls, others soon follow. While there are always stragglers, they still function as a unit.
I am reminded of a recent Sunday reading about Moses. Moses was seen as a leader. Yet, he still needed help to guide God’s people. In Exodus 17, Moses needed the support of others to succeed. While God worked through Moses to help the Israelites win their battle, Moses relied on Aaron and Hur to keep his arms raised “so that his hands remained steady till sunset” (Exodus 17:12). I picture God as the strong tree trunk, Moses’ arms as branches, and Aaron and Hur as the leaves that caught people’s eyes. Together, they achieved what Moses had no hope of completing on his own. Their individual strengths lead to collective good.
How are you using the trials of this world to transform you into someone vibrant and full of life? No matter how fragile your outward body is, are you allowing God to hold you up so everyone can see your beauty? “Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight” (1 Peter 3:3-4).
(Jenna Ebener, a graduate of St. Ambrose University in Davenport, is a social worker at a school in Colorado for students with a combination of medical, cognitive and behavior disabilities. She relies on God every day to aid her on this wonderful, yet intense journey.)
