Behold the colors! Depending of course, on where you live, it is likely the leaves are changing colors. Change can be beautiful and complicated! We can readily welcome the change of the autumn crisp air from the harsh summer heat and high temperatures. And we can be resistant to change as well.

One evening in West Des Moines, IA, Roger and I were taking an evening stroll and our neighbor’s outdoor lighting elaborately showcased these leaves. I captured this image with my cell phone and upon returning home, I immediately went to “google it,” as the grandkids say, whenever curiosity strikes a chord in us.

Thanks to brittanica.com, this is what I found to deepen my understanding of the process of change:

“In many places around the world, autumn is marked by the slow, beautiful change of green foliage to vibrant reds, oranges, yellows, and purples. Green leaves appear green because of the presence of the pigment chlorophyll, which is key to photosynthesis. In temperate regions, cold winters pose a risk to the leaves of broadleaf trees and other perennials and so these plants drop their leaves in a controlled fashion to reduce injuries and conserve energy. This event is usually triggered by the declining day length and falling temperatures of autumn. Leaf abscission (the technical term for the dropping of leaves) begins with the degradation of chlorophyll.

As the green fades, yellow and orange pigments known as carotenoids are revealed in the leaves of many species. In other plants, pigments called anthocyanins accumulate in the leaves at this time, giving them shades of red and purple. Some of the most beautiful fall foliage features both types of pigments, often with one color giving way to the next as the season progresses. Eventually all the leaves are dropped, and the plant goes dormant for the long winter months.”

This month as we reflect on the beauty of the changing leaves, may we pause and reflect on the areas of change that we invite in, those we feel comfortable with, AND the areas of change that we are challenged by. Maybe it is sending our teenager off to college; maybe it is sending our young child off to pre-k or kindergarten; maybe it’s working through intimacy issues from a cancer treatment/diagnosis; maybe it’s walking through the degeneration of health with a loved one; maybe it’s beginning a new position at work and feeling overwhelmed with the new responsibilities; maybe it’s struggling with the ever changing political climate; maybe it’s walking through the journey of a blended family…. There are so many changes, and no one way, no sure way, no certain way, no guarantees on the best, easiest, fastest way to step into and navigate the challenges.

I recently came upon a thought-provoking quote by Octavia E. Butler about change: “All that you touch. You Change. All that you Change Changes you. The only lasting truth is Change. God is Change.” How does that quote cause us to pause and contemplate?

What if, as we notice the beautiful changing leaves, we take a moment to pause – notice the change, reflect on what change might look like for us…and welcome in the wonder. The wonder of NOT knowing, the wonder of not being sure, the wonder of the ambiguity of it all. How might we respond in this time – a season of reflection and pausing?

Joyce Rupp, an author and spiritual director, is such an inspiration to me. She and I would sometimes run into one another on our daily walks around Raccoon River in Des Moines, IA. Joyce writes, “If we want to be spiritually transformed it is essential to include letting go as part of our journey. Each autumn I now seek inspiration from those dying leaves gathering in ever deeper layers on the ground. As the trees let go of what enabled them to sip of the nourishing rays of summer sun, their falling leaves will eventually become a rich humus to nourish spring’s greening growth. If I stay open to the inner and outer changes that naturally arise, (if I dance more and drag my feet less about impermanence), my life can be a nourishing source for personal and world transformation.”

What is it that we might need to let go of? What are our fears and concerns about loosening our grip and letting go of this one particular thing/thought/idea? Each fall I pull out this adaptation of a poem by Macrina Wiederkehr to reflect upon….

The Sacrament of Letting Go

Slowly she celebrated the sacrament of letting go.

First she surrendered her green, then the orange, yellow, and red.

Finally, she let go of her brown.

Shedding her last leaf, she stood empty and silent, stripped bare.

Leaning against the winter sky, she began her vigil of trust.

Shedding her last leaf, she watched its journey to the ground.

She stood in silence wearing the color of emptiness,

Her branches wondering, ‘How do you give shade with so much gone?’

And then, the sacrament of waiting began.

The sunrise and the sunset watched with tenderness.

Clothing her with silhouettes, they kept her hope alive.

They helped her understand that her vulnerability,

Her dependence and need, her emptiness,

Her readiness to receive

Were giving her a new kind of beauty.

Every morning and every evening,

They stood in silence and celebrated together

The sacrament of waiting.

May we allow the poem and the images of leaves and thoughts of October throughout the month to remind us to contemplate the idea of change, pause and reflect, and then ultimately invite wonder into our everyday by accentuating the pause of the day, the hour, the moment.

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