I just watched a single leaf fall from a tree outside. It is autumn, we saw temperatures in the 30s last night, it was beautifully brisk. That leaf has done its job since late spring. The bud showed itself sometime as the last icy patches were receding. The yearly tiny glaciers that give rise to a new short age. The shoot pushed out of the branch, arcing toward the sunshine, toward the source of the light. Soon after Pascha, the full young leaf revealed its inherent splendor. Still smaller than its potential. I have heard in many nature documentaries that the deer love young leaves the most. So being young was risky, but necessary. As we all tumbled through the end of the school year, or to the early days of outdoor life reawakened, that leaf reached its full stature. Broad, green, its lines placed there by the finger of God Himself. We didn’t notice. That leaf became one of thousands on one tree in a stand of thousands of trees in a town that is more green than anything else. It offered shade to the world below, it fed us the air we breathe. It worked in concert with its elevated neighbors in a fragile yet powerful system. The canopy above us, that is the sky, is unreachable by our tiny selves. So the Lord put the canopy a little lower so that we might know that His loving care is also reachable, and condescends to meet us and provide in our need. The leaf was a part of that plan.
