In the quiet, and pieces of orange

In the quiet, and pieces of orange

In the small moments of quiet,
A beauty glimmers in the stillness -
Pieces of orange on the sidewalk.

Fallen leaves, gently blown by the breeze,
Skittering across the pathway
And proclaiming, quietly, the beauty of a Creator
Who asked them to die.

They did not chose to have their comfort severed from them;
They did not chose the distance from which they fell,
But they fell without complaint, without refusal.
They simply fell.
They simply died.

Why do I not simply fall,
Simply trust the Hands
That perfectly and wonderfully made me?
Why do I not fall back into the Hands that love me
As no other Being can love?
What lies do I believe when I fight those nail-pierced Hands,
When I push them away?

"You will always live consistently with what you truly believe." James teaches us.
You find yourself at odds with this One who only gives good and perfect gifts
When you confront Him in pride,
When you fight.
You mar His beauty with the ugliness of sin
And He cannot use your life to declare His praise
As He would like and love to do.
Your quiet soul turns noisy
And the autumnal glory of dying to the allusion of control
Is masked by the ugliness of pride and self will.

O Believer, fall back!
Fall back into His Hands,
And trust as He turns your life in the glories
That are a forest ablaze with color in autumn!