Saturday afternoon it rained leaves all over the sky and I soaked in the beauty and absurdity of the sight. As I watched the trees do their hula hoop dance I wondered just how tall that tallest tree was. The one that seemed like it could hit me on the head if it snapped right about then. Between the furious music of the wind and the dancing of the leaves I sat entranced.
update: Ha. Not that tree but one just about as tall did crack under the furious music of the wind today, falling away from the house not towards it, thank God.
Last night I was at the treatment centre for a women's AA meeting. Once again welcomed by the warm, caring women who show up week after week to share their experience, strength and hope with whoever is in treatment or detox and with one another. There were a few newcomers last night. One newcomer biking her way there, arriving out of breath part way through the meeting. How beautiful it was to hear them get kudos for having the courage to walk through that door. To have every woman write down her phone number for them and say call us before you take that first drink, day or night we are here for you. To let them know we all had to do walk through the door to get where we are today. And where we are is not an arrived place but in process. To hear in every sharing a story of redemption. And I wonder for the umpteenth time why church often seems to be a place where we prize looking so put together and never less in need of a saviour than on Sunday morning. How guilty I am of giving off those vibes as well. God help me.
I'm finding that the more serenity I have, my need to project an image of perfection lessens.
Every day as I've been walking I leaf watch. There is a beauty to their decay and I take deep breaths as I pass by. As I drove to town yesterday I looked at the near naked trees in the river valley and sighed, mourning that this particular season of beauty is over for another year.
I wonder what needs to die within me and will I embrace its beauty just as much?