Leaves and Death

"Tree is dying!" the young boy remarks as he, his mother, and I explore the woods behind their house. The leaves are mostly crisp, a hunt of crunch beneath our feet after the rain that just fell.

“No, honey” his mother replies gently, “the tree is just losing its leaves. That’s supposed to happen. It’s fall. The leaves turn yellow and red and fall down.”

“Oh. That tree not dying.” The young boy seems content with the answer and quickly runs off in search of the perfect stick.

I smile at the teachable moment my friend has seized upon and ponder anew the symbolism of a tree losing all its leaves in order to prepare itself for winter, and how it can look dead but not be. And then for the first time, I see the leaves. The tree may not be dying, but the leaves sure are.

It may be that I attended a funeral yesterday - the reason that death is on the mind. I didn’t know Lee well, but she was a constant presence when I came back to Grace Church and joined the Women’s Missionary Stewardship group. Having faithfully served in the Philippines for multiple decades, we developed a bond; she knew what it was like as a mom to send your children off to boarding school and entrust them to teachers like me. Her funeral was marked by the gospel message from start to finish! It became evident quickly her final wish was that her death might bring life to those family members who didn’t know Jesus. She had prayed her death would bring about life, that she might be a leaf.

An image floats into my mind of the tree of life. And perhaps I’m taking the analogy too far at this point, but just as a tree’s survival of winter means its leaves have to die, my survival depended on the death of a certain Savior of the world. He is the tree of life, but he is also the leaf that died. He allowed himself to be cut off from the source of true life so that he could die my death and I could survive winter. 1 Peter 2:24 says, “He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed.” In a way, I was promoted from being a leaf to a branch. I get to rest, being made a more permanent part of the tree as long as I abide, clinging to the trunk with its roots deeply sunk into the earth.

Have I mentioned how much I love fall? And crunchy leaves and apple crisp and cozy wrap-around sweaters? (I am a stereotypical girl, am I not?) I love my Savior more than all of those things, and I’m grateful for the daily reminders he literally drops in my path.

P.S. Here's a song called Mercy's Tree I just discovered and love.

a hike along Lake Superior last week