I’ve been reading The Lord of the Rings to the younger boys. It’s taking awhile. They aren’t quite as into the beauty of Middle Earth as I am, but we’re getting there. We are currently in Lorien, an Elven land where the autumn leaves turn gold, but don’t fall. They remain on the tree all through the winter until the new growth appears, all green and fresh. Everything glows. Magical and peaceful.
Now that’s my idea of fall. And I believe there will be parts of heaven exactly like this. Where the beauty never wanes. It hangs on until the promise of something new comes along to replace it.
Fall seems to be slowly sneaking away up here in the mountains. Dry, brown leaves on the ground are far more abundant than glowing leaves in the trees.
Every morning, the sun, which lingers in the sky during summer, seems to now be taking giant leaps further south and our little valley has to wait a little longer each day to soak up its rays. The warmth is slowly drifting away.
The coming of winter has its own sort of beauty of course. But I miss the green, the freshness of summer. Winter is cozy. Light the candles and gather around the fire. But for some reason, summer just feels more hopeful to me. Maybe because the growth is obvious?
“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord,
whose trust is the Lord.
He is like a tree planted by water,
that sends out its roots by the stream,
and does not fear when heat comes,
for its leaves remain green,
and is not anxious in the year of drought,
for it does not cease to bear fruit.” -Jeremiah 17:7-8
I’ve been praying this verse over my family this year. Little did I know when I started praying it how real the heat and drought would become.
We met with the oncologist last week. Chemo is looming in our near future and I can’t say that’s very exciting.
Does not fear when heat comes, is not anxious in the year of drought.
So yeah, I’m still working on the not fearing thing. And not being anxious? Definitely haven’t mastered this. But I do know, as I watch these trees die around me in winter, that I don’t want this to be the metaphor for my life. That when hard seasons come, I don’t shrivel away and wait for the sun to shine on me again before I perk up a bit.
I want to be bearing fruit through every season. Especially the hard ones.
The fruit, however, doesn’t come through sheer willpower. It’s not something I can just manufacture out of my own grit. Which is great, because I haven’t got much of that. And it certainly can’t be faked. Not for more than a few seconds. And most definitely not in the oncology waiting room.
It comes from the depth of the roots. The nutrients in the soil. The abundance of water. The fruit is an indication of what’s going on down beneath the ground. Where the tree is anchored.
When I pray this for my kids, it’s not just a prayer that they will bear fruit. It’s a prayer that they will anchor themselves in the fertile soil. Live in the abundant places. Where the truth of God’s word is the only nutrient to seek. And this nutrient is absorbed by meditating on it, memorizing it, studying it. Surrounding themselves with community seeking to do the same. Turning every worry to prayer. Drinking in the beauty of God and allowing it to transform their hearts to worship. Take their focus off the temperature around them and instead place it on the depth below them. The foundation that is never changing.
We have some pretty fantastic people in our life. The gift cards and packages, the meals and financial support. There’s quite a long list of kindness being poured over us and words can never fully express my gratitude. And always a multitude of offers of, “Please, let us know if there is ANYTHING you need…”
So, here is what we need most. Prayer.
Prayer that our lives will bear fruit. That this time of cancer and the unknown and the un-asked-for will force our roots down to the fertile soil. That we will only drink from the streams flowing with the promise of hope and eternity. That we will not be overwhelmed by the temporal or distracted by the drought.
May we recognize every day on this earth is one step closer to eternity. May our confidence be in the Lord.
May we grow. May our leaves remain green. May our fruit be sweet. And abundant.
