I was born in autumn, and I hope I die like autumn.
Let me explain. Everyone who has gone through basic botany knows that leaves aren’t green. I mean, they are, obviously (unless you’re color blind), but the green in leaves comes from chlorophyll as the trees take the sunlight from the sun and turn it into oxygen or whatever. Hey, I’m not a botanist. Look it up.
Anyway, when the sunlight lessens in autumn, the green begins to fade and the leaves “real” color comes through. It is, if you ask almost anyone, one of the most beautiful sights of any season – the deep purples and reds and blazing oranges and yellows of a forest of trees in fall. I’m certainly a fan.
Anyway, that’s the kind of woman I want to be. If I am allowed to live a long life, I want to die like fall.
As the sunlight of my life begins to dim, and my days begin to fade, I want my real colors to come through. And I want them to be beautiful. I want to be more beautiful in my final days than I am now. When I don’t have outward beauty to commend me, I want inward beauty to shine through. Like the trees, I want to approach my death with a loveliness that can only be attributed to my Maker.
Actually, I kind of want that now. Fall is a good season anytime, right?
I thought you’d agree.