And yet the leaves were falling. In a dark morning that any other of time of year would have been totally silent, those leaves crackled just slightly as they fell over lawn and sidewalk and the barn roof, the rustling neither distressing, nor fearful--just unusual. For sure, it's fall--just listen, I told myself.
That it was election day is immaterial. But as I stood there in the shower of gentle whispering, I told myself that I hadn't been paying attention lately, hadn't been listening enough. “Little things console us," Pascal once wrote, "because little things afflict us.”
There was nothing little about this Presidential election, but, standing out there in the shower of falling leaves, I told myself it was time to listen more, now that it's over, to keep a place in my heart for beauty, as Pascal also once suggested.
After all, this is my father's world. And this morning, I'm thankful for the language of his grace in the falling leaves of a dark and windstill morning.