The Calm, Happy Leaf

“Look at that leaf! It’s the first one to change on our whole street!” my then middle school daughter proclaimed proudly from the passenger seat.

Absorbed in my own thoughts, I pulled up into the driveway and shifted into park. She was stretching her neck to look out the window at the tall ash tree next to our garage.

We grabbed our bags and got out of the car. Then I looked up, too. Sure enough, way at the tippy top, tucked amid a mass of green, was a single scarlet gold leaf fluttering in the gentle Autumn breeze.

Feeling a little run down lately, it felt good to take pause and connect with nature. Glancing upward with the sun and blue sky warming my face, my first thought gazing at the leaf was: It looks so calm and happy.  

Michael Interisano / Design Pics/ Getty Images

 

But for what reason? It’s stuck to an old tree on a dead-end street. It’s never going to fall in love, be popular, or have a plush bank account. It’s never going to hike in the mountains, write with a newly sharpened pencil, drink dark coffee in a bookstore by itself for an hour, or even try a peanut M&M. And before long, it’s going to wither, fall to the ground, and become soil.

Even so, it’s got that subtle something. As the late poet and writer Robert Louis Stevenson might say, it’s got “that quality of air emanation from old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit.” (I’ve always wanted to weave that gorgeous quote in somewhere.)

I know some people with that subtle something, too. Some of them are near and dear. Others have been total strangers on the other side of a service counter—like Wes from Kwik Trip. Without fanfare and in the face of difficult or what may appear as mundane circumstances, they emit a quality of air that lifts others up.

I’ll never, ever forget how those people make me feel. In their presence, as they greet or respond to me or others kindly without judgment, my anxious thoughts fade. I believe at that moment what is weighing on me will ultimately be okay.

Where does that quality come from? Well, maybe the leaf knows.

Although complex in its function, the leaf lives its short life focused on a simple mission: to enhance the lives of others by replenishing the atmosphere. It does so by emitting nutrients that originate in the roots and rise up through the tree trunk.

Maybe that’s how it works with those lovely calm and kind souls, too. Their subtle something comes from a deeply rooted foundation and clarity of purpose. While so many of us are rushing around depleted trying to be bigger and greater, they’re focused on replenishing those around them. Their calming kindness rises from a deep, rich inner place.

They inspire me to want to be like that. But sometimes, that deep, rich inner place feels unreachable.

More often than not, I’m drowning in details and struggling just to keep afloat. I’ll tell myself that when I finish this project, when I get through this crazy week, when my high school senior has all her college application materials turned in, when my husband changes careers, when I’m an empty nester and my kids are settled into solid career paths and a community of secure friendships, then I’ll have more space in my brain to pursue inner serenity and divine purpose more regularly.

But maybe I’m complicating it.

Maybe all it takes is a simple gaze toward God’s creation—such as a scarlet gold leaf fluttering in the gentle breeze. And then a pause to ask: What small thing can I do this day to replenish and renew the weary spirit of another?


I’m Julie Jo Severson, mom to three teens, freelance journalist, editor, coauthor of Here In the Middle, and author of the newly released Secret Twin Cities: A Guide to the Weird, Wonderful, and Obscure. This blog, Carvings on a Desk, is where I reconnect with my own voice swirling around in the middle. Subscribe and receive the occasional stories in your inbox. Read other recent posts. 

 

About Julie Jo Severson

Julie Jo Severson, former PR girl, is now a freelance writer, journalist, editor, and lost-and-found attendant for two teens and a tween. This is where she doodles about past, present, future clinking glasses and making peace.

23 comments on “The Calm, Happy Leaf

  1. Loved that! What a beautiful reminder. Thank you! By the way, I have a desk that is similar to the one in your picture. It has a person’s initials carved in it and I love it so much because of that little bit of “vandalism.”

  2. Beautiful Julie! Autumn leaves remind me that the One who tells the seasons when to turn is in charge…and it takes the pressure off of me! Xo

  3. 10:30 PM . . . what a precious addition to my nighttime prayer regimen. A treasurer like each of the other 20+ of your “carvings” . . . being shared yet this evening with many in my email address book. Love you Julie Jo. Proud of you.
    Your Dad

    • Melissa, thank YOU for your continued encouragement. By the way, I just clicked on your name and got a glimpse of your completed new website. It’s gorgeous!!! And so is your jewelry, of course, although I’m not much of a jewelry girl. I just end up losing it.

  4. Julie! Love this piece. Restorative. It reminds me that when it gets muddled and complicated on the inside, the best thing to do is shine a simple light to the outside. You are a lovely writer, my friend!

  5. Oh, Julie… I adore this reflection and message. As always, I came here for inspiration and you delivered.

    “But maybe I’m complicating it.

    Maybe all it takes is a simple gaze toward God’s creation—such as a scarlet gold leaf fluttering in the gentle breeze. And then a pause to ask: What small thing can I do this day to replenish and renew the weary spirit of another?”

    Girl, I love you.

    Thank you for this beautiful and insightful gift.

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