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Fall is my absolute favorite season of the year—the changing of the leaves, the cooler temperatures, the holidays, the food! Yet fall always comes with a bittersweetness. Because as we gather around the table, I’m quietly reminded of those who aren’t with us anymore.
By definition, fall marks the transition from warmer to cooler weather as nature readies for winter dormancy. The length of daylight decreases, the nights become longer, deciduous trees shed their leaves, certain animals prepare for hibernation, and birds such as geese and hummingbirds migrate toward warmer climates.
A few years back, Joe and I were walking the dogs and admiring the vibrant shades of the leaves still clinging to the trees, and we started discussing the science behind that gorgeous flood of color. In a nutshell, the chlorophyll in deciduous trees reduces production which then causes the leaves to change color. At the same time, as the leaves are aging and deteriorating, the tree begins reabsorbing nutrients into its branches and roots for use in the coming spring (when new life will emerge!).
So, as the leaves of our favorite trees—such as the sugar maple, river birch, quaking aspen, and sweetgum—are displaying such incredible beauty that we adore, they are, in essence, dying.
Each year with the changing of the leaves, I think of the apostle Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 5:4: “While we live in these earthly bodies, we groan and sigh, but it’s not that we want to die and get rid of these bodies that clothe us. Rather, we want to put on our new bodies so that these dying bodies will be swallowed up by life.”
Swallowed up by life. Isn’t it amazing how Paul describes death for those who die in Christ?
Joe and I took a trip to Colorado in September and the aspens were at their peak. Their vivid yellow and deep golden-almost-peachy-pink colors were breathtaking. The phrase “swallowed up by life” kept returning to me. Is it any wonder that our gracious God, in his never-ending creativity and compassionate grace, chose to display such beauty in dying leaves?
The holiday season will be here in a blink, and Thanksgiving—my favorite by far—is, at its core, about gratitude. But thankfulness isn’t limited to seasons of plenty. It’s a posture we’re called to carry even in moments of hardship, loss, or longing. And there are plenty of those moments in this current world, aren’t there?
But it’s in those moments that we must cling to the hope of Christ. As a believer, I grieve, yes, but I do not “grieve like people who have no hope” (1 Thessalonians 4:13). For those in Christ, death is not the end, but the doorway to eternal life. That truth changes everything. Thanksgiving, then, becomes not just about remembering the blessings of this life, but also about anticipating the reunions that await us in the next.
My heart is anchored in both gratitude and hope. Gratitude for the loved ones still gathered near me. Gratitude for the legacy of those who came before. Gratitude for the God who gives and sustains life. And hope in the promise that one day every tear will be wiped away, and every table will be full again. No more empty chairs, my friend.
Blessings in Christ to you and yours this holiday season,
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