The other night as I lay in bed doom scrolling, I thumbed past an article called, Do You Have ‘Zoom Fatigue’ or Is It Existentially Crushing to Pretend Life Is Normal as the World Burns? I didn’t need to read it, I knew the answer was both. The cognitive dissonance of going about our lives as everything seems to be unraveling in slowmo before our eyes is… well, it’s everything. All the feels, as they say. All the heaviness, all the dread, all the unknown, and just tiny little scraps of hope.
But there are scraps aren’t there? There are still moments of peace and places of beauty and the trees are still showing up to Autumn with all their magnificent color. There are still things for which to give thanks.
As we face a world none of us could have imagined, I take comfort in the trees. The trees have been here long before us and will be long after. They’ve seen it all. They’ve survived, year after year, cycling through the seasons, each year, blooming, leafing, changing, and fading. With a long cold, pandemic winter of civil unrest on the horizon, we get some good advice from Creation to help us prepare. The trees are letting go of what no longer feeds them. The animals are storing up some reserves. The birds aren’t sticking around where they can’t thrive. The world is readying for a long nap. And when the snow stacks up around them, the trees will be working the magic of sap in their dreams. When the first trickles of water begin to run again in the spring, we can trust the sweetness of syrup will come. And the birds will return. And the trees will bud.
The leaves are changing and so is the world. Let’s match our rhythms with the Earth’s and trust that on the other side new life awaits.
Church in the Wild 