Grace and Leaves
This is by Melissa Patterson, one of our friends from the book. She lives in the beautiful state of South Carolina and enjoys spending as much time as possible outside.
Every now and then, God gifts us with a moment of beauty so unexpected and so breathtaking that it stops us right where we are. I had one of those moments recently while driving home to South Carolina after a visit to Florida. A long drive gives you time to think, but it also gives God plenty of room to speak if you’re paying attention.
Somewhere across the marshes of Georgia, the world around me turned into a painting. On my left, the full moon still hovered in the sky. On my right, the sun was rising in soft golds and pinks. A low-hanging fog rested gently across the marsh, making everything look like it belonged in a storybook. It was one of the most idyllic scenes I’ve ever seen, and I thanked God right then and there for letting me witness it.
As I traveled north, the scenery shifted again. The trees—still mostly green down in Florida—began to burst into reds, yellows, oranges, and browns. At home in the foothills of the Blue Ridge, peak leaf season has already passed, so things are fading now. But just south of home, the leaves were in full, glorious color. It was the kind of beauty that makes you involuntarily suck in your breath. I even said out loud, “Thank You for this beauty, Lord. I don’t deserve it.” And honestly—I don’t.
Scripture reminds us that “all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). Yet God, in His mercy and grace, “demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” When we accept that gift of salvation, we become His children. We get to enjoy Him. We get to see His fingerprints everywhere—even in something as simple as a leaf.
As I drove, I kept thinking about those leaves and how extravagant God is with His creativity. He didn’t have to make fall beautiful. He could have made trees drop their leaves without any color at all—just green to brown to gone. He could have designed the world in a million different ways. But He chose color. He chose beauty. He chose to paint the hillsides every year with a glory that makes us look up and breathe out, “Wow.”
And that’s the thing: I’m not worshiping the creation. I’m worshiping the Creator who gave it to us.
If you look around, I’m sure you can think of endless ways God whispers His love through what He’s made. The soft fall of snow at night. The steady rhythm of waves hitting the shore. A child’s face lighting up with a smile meant only for you. A sunset so vibrant it makes you stop mid-sentence.
There are a million quiet ways God says, “I love you, child.”
Look closer the next time you’re outside. Slow down for a moment. Let yourself notice the beauty He tucks into ordinary places. You just might hear Him in the rustling of a leaf.
