As I stand looking out the window,
A gentle trickle of tears begins to flow.
Not from sadness, but in reflection
Of the beauty woven through God’s creation.
How the tree stands firmly yet elegantly in the wind,
Its trunk detailed, purposefully designed.
How the soft soil plays its quiet part in growth,
It really just goes to show.
That no matter how tough we may feel,
We need something small yet mighty to help us heal.
To help us stand with strength and serenity,
Just as the leaves hold their place with purpose and identity.
Until it’s time for them to fall slowly,
Gently and meaningfully—
Just as we must strip our layers and fall too,
To accept and embrace the changes we’re moving through.
Like the leaves must fall to rejuvenate,
We learn to wait, to heal, to recreate.
To flourish and grow in hope and faith,
Just as the seasons move gracefully through change.
Sometimes the hardest part is loosening our hold,
Releasing what’s familiar, what we’ve quietly carried for so long.
Yet in the gentle surrender, we begin to see,
Falling is not the end, but the start of becoming free.
