Good morning from beautiful Minnesota.

I’m sitting here in the calm of the morning watching the last few leafs fall from the tree. Don’t we love the fall? Having lived in Massachusetts for a few years fall took on a whole other meaning. The trees were electrifying. Bright burning orange, red, yellow. They almost looked neon some days. If the song of Spring is the song of life than the song of Autumn is the song of death or perhaps detachment. A far more painful song, but not without beauty. It has become a season of introspection, of quiet, of solitude. And a season to begin to let go.

This fall has been particularly filled with detachment. I am being challenged into areas of deep interior surrender. Of the shedding of every leaf in my heart to prepare for the budding of new flowers, of a new Springtime. But Springtime won’t come immediately. There is a falling then there is a waiting. And we all know winter feels like an eternity. “Always winter, never Christmas.” Was C.S. Lewis’ description of a life without God in the Chronicles of Narnia. But this preparation of winter is not a wasted one. In the midst of waiting for new life, for new fruit, for warms, we learn to let go. To let the Maker work His wonders in our hearts and allow His love to blow away anything remaining that needs to be shed.

This is not an easy season, a particularly warm season interiorly or exteriorly, but it’s a beautiful and deeply important season.

Without letting go there is no springtime, there is no new fruit, there is no room for new life and beauty.

And so we enter into this month asking for the grace to let go.

Be not afraid.

Mari