Blow Away

Today while I was walking I had the most magical moment of this fall. Anyone else who is still really quite a child inside will share this excitement.

The turning of the leaves is always the best part of the year, it's like the buildup in a song that leads to your favorite part. The grand crescendo, the climax of the story! And then it's silent, the gentlest part of the song: winter. And it brings with it all the peace and rest of the months, a sleep from the technicolored summertime. But the leaves blaze the way, in all their colors. And when their life is lost they fall to the ground to continue bringing to us a change in the seasons for all of our senses. I was walking across the campus at Missouri Southern, and as I passed under the road through the tunnel, I could hear the scratching of a leaf as the wind pushed it across the concrete. But, with my aviators in place I couldn't see it... until it was right in front of me. And I stepped right on it. It was hands down the most satisfying leaf-crunch I have ever experienced. It echoed in the tunnel. It was like it had been running right towards me. Because at this point in the season, most people are dreading the cold, hating the mess of fallen leaves, and despising the empty trees. This little leaf was a lone herald, begging for the continued beauty of fall to be appreciated and noticed, even in its fading life. And I did.

Running outside today was like a continuation of this high. I ran and looked up at the skeletal trees, with the curled up leaves hanging on for dear life. Yet, here on the dry trees they will find no nourishment. So, they flocked to the sidewalks, where my red running shoes enjoyed once more the percussion section of nature. I ran through pile after pile that the wind had selflessly made just for me. And it was beautiful. Every stick, every stone, every brown leaf. The bend, twist and knot in every branch that has fallen to the ground, blocking my path, causing me to hurdle, is a masterful piece of art. It's not just the sharp wind that brings tears to my eyes, but the act of loving my Creator by loving His creation, by crying out with the puddles in the woods, by slowing my pace just to watch the deer bound across the trail, by running- face towards the sky- feeling the pulsing air of the birds' wings. By listening to the leaves blow away, and stalling them with the sole of my foot.