Leafy People (including Jared)

A leaf is a pretty small thing. It grows on a tree early in the year, sticky green with newness. It absorbs chlorophyll from the sunlight all year, providing shady dappled cover. In the autumn, some leaves have one blaze of glory before they turn brown, crinkle and drop to the ground. There they lie until they rot, grieved by some who, in the winter, miss their symbolism of summer sunshine and trampled carelessly by most who only curse their slipperiness. It leaves a mark on the tree, though - a leaf scar where it once quivered and danced. No other leaf can grow there.

Leaves have the majority of their moments of glory when they're in unusual situations. When they're squished in a pile of heavy books to preserve their beauty...when they're bedecked with lacy ice in a sudden frost...when cast on the bonfire and suddenly the blaze of light is pouring out of the holes for seconds before it shimmmers into shreds and the light burns brighter...when dancing on the tangled threads of a spider's web bedecked in morning dew droplets.


Humans are like that too. We are born and everyone is excited over us for the first few moments of life. Then we grow up, working steadily, doing all the things that an average person is expected to do. Sometimes in the autumn of life, rich with the nutrients of the tree and our days spent on the branch, we bloom out into a sudden haze of glory. That moment done, we slowly crumple to the ground.

Our moments of glory come in the unusual moments - in the pain of a smashed family, through a time of abuse, from moments of intense, agonising pressure.
The situation isn't beautiful, but the leaf is.
It's not what we would have chosen, it's just where we are.

But we aren't like the leaves in some things.
We don't have to crumble in the burning of the fire, or break under the sharp shards of the ice.
Our Tree is still holding us, whether we're in a natural lifespan or an unnatural one.

We could be all nobodies. We could easily be replaceable to God. But He has chosen to make us each for an individual purpose, if we will let Him. He has chosen to bear the individual leaf scars - the nail scars in His hands.


Amazing love! How can it be
That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?


In His Name,
Mademoiselle Siân

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