Leaf pile life.

My fingertips are hovering over the keyboard in search of meaningful words. There is an itch that runs from my soul to my fingertips only writing can scratch; I have been itching for weeks. Finding concrete words proves a challenge in seasons of change, and this last year of my life has been the strangest autumn road. Life seems to keep falling at my feet, nonetheless beautiful but fallen. Joy ensues from the changes in color but pain for the naked branch. Every step is brighter, crisper, further from summer than ever before - yet closer to spring.  Attempting to write from underneath a leaf pile has been overwhelming and unsuccessful, for leaves are light on their own but weighty together. So instead of writing, I've stayed alone with my thoughts, cold and bitter like fall air, sulking in my leaf pile life. But this is not how I was made to live, or who I was created to be.

Like most of you, I belong to a society that values independence and competitiveness. We lather sentences with I, me and my like butter on a southerner's toast, hardly ever stopping to consider the health consequences. Accordingly, we develop a drive comparable to the mentality of a toddler striving to prove them self: "me do it". I can rake my own leafy yard. I can solve my own pile of problems. I can save my own self and I do not need anyone's help! These are the lies of self-sufficiency we learn to eat and repeat as if our strength and worth depended on our ability to function in isolation. And nothing has ever been farther from the truth. The very life of Jesus contrasts such statements.

Jesus, who offers us life most abundantly, did not pride himself in what he could accomplish alone. Despite being both God and man, Yeshua chose to spend his time on earth in a community that submitted to the Father's will. Jesus humbled himself in a community and to God the Father, and staked his claim to identity in God alone. By subscribing to cultural ideals of self-sovereignty and me-only mindedness we forfeit the beauty of accountability and assurance community promotes. So let's cast aside this way of the world and step into autumns with our friends, even if life feels more like spring, or even winter.

 Yards with too many scattered leaves are believed ugly; life gets hard when you feel pressured to have all your problems raked, hauled and burned before the neighbors get home to discover your mess. But what if we knew our neighbors would offer rest instead of judgment? What if we believed in walking through two seasons at once - our own and another's? Hard seasons are a necessary party of learning about life, but we are not meant to tread autumn roads alone. Having a community that brings fruits from their summer, wildflowers from their spring, and rakes of hope when colorful dreams dangle from branches on trees is crucial. Keeping Christ at the center is key. When trapped underneath the weight of a heavy load, start by turning over one leaf...then another, and another until finally, you are free. Let your community see the pieces of you, no matter how cracked or perfect each seems, and hand it all over to the Lord. Live as different members of the same body, better together, with no part lacking obligation until all members are free under the basking Son.

Had it not been for Christ and community, I would stay alone, bitter breathed and weighed down by my leaf pile life. Fortunately, I was created to be more, and to live fully. I'm beginning to feel the bitter air as the wind beneath my wings and appreciate the upsides in downfalls, like the color in fallen leaves. My yard is far from being leafless, my life will never be flawless, but my load is significantly lighter. For after every night a morning comes, and in every hardship glory prevails, thanks only to grace.

{Molly Jane is a college friend of mine who, God bless her, met me and walks with me in this current autumn of life. Molly seeks sanctification and pursues peace, and in her free time she blogs and studies to be a middle grades educator. Lately, both of us have been struggling to scratch out blog posts, so we're committing to a 15-week blog challenge. Hopefully, the topics allow me to focus on and write about one leaf at a time (rather than trying to crawl out from underneath the whole pile in one post) and gain personal momentum as a blogger. May you find hope, grace, and relatability here. Stay tuned!}