Frost has kissed the forest. Dead leaves flutter from the trees, making Autumn’s golden snowfall litter the stream. My feet crunch through the leafy debris as the trees lift barren branches skyward.
It’s silent here. No cars roar. No people chatter. High in the treetops the wind blows, roaring past leafless branches. All around me seems dead, lifeless. Yet, the forest lives. I hear rustling in the leaves; small animals run from this human invading their territory. I stop at the stream, listening to the water rushing over the rocks. It soothes my soul. I imagine the roots of the brown grass and the barren trees delving deep into the soil. Even though the plants appear dead, their roots draw nourishment from the soil.
So it is with my soul. Sometimes it feels brown and lifeless. I struggle from an unresponsive spirit and lack of enthusiasm. I go to a still place. As the wind rushes through the trees, God’s voice rushes through my soul, giving me peace. I listen. I learn. I allow the roots of my soul to draw up spiritual nourishment. I rejoice, waiting for the green blush of spring to sprout in my soul.
Thank you Father, for the many ways you renew my soul.
“Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” (Psalm 30:5b NIV)