Look At The Trees

A devotion for Advent:

²⁵ “There will be signs in the sun, moon and stars. On the earth, nations will be in anguish and perplexity at the roaring and tossing of the sea. ²⁶ People will faint from terror, apprehensive of what is coming on the world, for the heavenly bodies will be shaken. ²⁷ At that time they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. ²⁸ When these things begin to take place, stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

²⁹ He told them this parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees. ³⁰ When they sprout leaves, you can see for yourselves and know that summer is near. ³¹ Even so, when you see these things happening, you know that the kingdom of God is near.

³² “Truly I tell you, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened. ³³ Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.

³⁴ “Be careful, or your hearts will be weighed down with carousing, drunkenness and the anxieties of life, and that day will close on you suddenly like a trap. ³⁵ For it will come on all those who live on the face of the whole earth. ³⁶ Be always on the watch, and pray that you may be able to escape all that is about to happen, and that you may be able to stand before the Son of Man.” -Luke 21:25-36

 

I am reading this passage for the first time while Hadley and her friend are across the hallway eating Halloween candy, playing with slime, and shouting, “Hey! Google! Turn Hadley’s lights red!” “Yo, Google. Turn Hadley’s lights blue!”

Google won’t respond to, “Yo.” The lights stay red.

I accidentally called it a playdate when I suggested Hadley ask a friend over. “I’m not five, mom,” Hadley said. Of course I know this, but I think some part of me, the scared part, doesn’t want to admit it.

I am terrified of Hadley’s navigation through middle school. I’m terrified of what it will turn her into. Mostly though, I am terrified because I don’t think I have any control over any of this, and so I’m reading about nations in anguish and people fainting from terror, and apprehension of what is coming, and I’m thinking, “Hey, God – this is how I feel about middle school. Yo, God – this is terrifying.”

Jesus tells us though, we are to “stand up and lift up [our] heads, because [our] redemption is drawing near.” I’m wondering now if this is how redemption works: we are to stand up and face what it is we are afraid of. We are to take note of the tumult, of the chaos, of what it is we are overwhelmed by and unsure of. Maybe it is in what we shakily and fearfully observe that our redemption draws nearer.

Jesus talks of the trees next. He says when we see them sprouting, we know summer is near, and so it goes with the kingdom of God. Signs are everywhere.

When she was three, and we were getting ready to go to a ballet class on a December afternoon, Hadley wouldn’t wear a jacket, and she refused to take off her ballet slippers to go outside. I wouldn’t or couldn’t fight with her. My youngest, Harper, was on my hip, groggy and grumpy from being woken up from her nap, and I was probably feeling the same about the lack of control I had over the situation. I really like to be in control. Of everything.

When we stepped outside, Hadley gasped, and I thought, “See? You’re freezing. I told you.”

“Mommy, Harper!” Hadley yelled with her hands in the air. “Look at the trees! Look at the trees!” She began turning around in circles and she reminded me of Mary Tyler Moore all alone and delighted to be in the big city.

The trees were bare; not a leaf was on them. I thought they looked sad. Not Hadley.

“The trees are ready!” she exclaimed, jumping up and down.

“Ready for what?” I asked.

“Ready for winter!” Hadley bolted forward sallying the red leaves that fell, allowing the trees to become what they needed to become next.

Harper laughed and kicked her legs to be released from my grip so she could be a part of the celebration. She couldn’t walk yet without holding my hand, and so I let her down, and offered her my hand, and together, we waddled after Hadley, a pink firecracker on a grey day reveling in the bareness of the world, knowing that this is how something magnificent makes its way to us.

 

Come, Lord Jesus. Though we are afraid, and lonely, and though we may feel we have no control and nothing to offer, make your way towards us. Help us be like the trees, submitting to the changing seasons and having faith that something grand is on its way. -Amen