WHAT THE CRUNCH OF CRISPY LEAVES SAYS

It is one of the most recognizable sounds in the repertoire of one’s audio memory; at least for those who live in climates with distinctly marked seasonal change. What? The sound of fallen autumn leaves crunching under one’s feet. On my daily walk this past week the leaves were as crisp as the air. Earbuds in, podcast blaring, I was walking briskly through our plat. Up ahead I could see the accumulation of fallen leaves across the sidewalk and the lawn through which it passed creating a retroactive, multi-colored shadow of the tree. When I began walking on those leaves, even above the sound from earbuds, I could hear that distinct cadenced sound of crunching leaves underfoot. Immediately, with no search for it, I was inundated with a memory from fifty years past. I was a ten-year-old walking home from elementary school. Ironically, though my school was ten blocks away, each way my two siblings and I walked past a closed school but one block from our house. It was walking past that shutdown school that the sound of crunching leaves impressed that indelible memory within me. Parallel to the sidewalk along the schoolyard was a rock retainer wall. The leaves from the trees lining our street, once fallen, piled thickly against it. That day, wading through those leaves, hearing them crunch underfoot caused a feeling of elevation, a sort of thrill, to well up in me. Why? At the time I probably would have only answered, “Because it’s Fall!” And left it there. But on reflection, beyond autumn being my favorite time of year, I think that the crunching leaves signaled welcomed change: The brutal heat of an Oklahoma summer was over. Rabbit hunting season—going with my grandfather and father was my favorite thing—was opening. Thanksgiving and Christmas were on the horizon. Snow, another thing I loved, was coming. Yes, the sound of crisp, crunching, colorful leaves underfoot heralded anticipated coming change. Younger folks usually with open arms welcome change. Change can mean diversion, fresh starts, new adventures, escape, etc. However, stereotypically, as we age, we grow to dislike change. I have. I do. Why do older folks resist and feel aversion to change? I think it is because comfort is paramount for us older folk and change is a threat to comfort. Sameness is comfortable. Change rocks the boat. Change is disturbing—literally and psychologically. We have things just the way we like them. Also, we’ve learned, change is often painful. So many changes, arising from crises, separations, losses, betrayals, etc., are negative. Yet, despite my increasing displeasure of change, I still look forward to the change that autumn brings, a change of which crunching leaves under step are a harbinger. I do not think I could tolerate living in a clime without distinct seasonal changes. Time would travel along in bland, slow monotony. Yes, I believe I have reached the bell curve of one in life first welcoming change and then coming to disdain change and beginning once again to welcome it. My walk through crunching leaves this week caused me again to yearn for change. There is no escaping the things that bring the negative change—those crises, catastrophes, betrayals, abandonments, etc. We dread those, praying they’ll never come. But there are some positive changes to anticipate as well. Ever since humanity messed up this world with sin, there has been a longing for it to be changed back to the perfection to which God created it. Paul says the whole creation groans for this change including we born-again mortals who desire this coming change even for our bodies. (Romans 8:21-23). Here’s our Christian hope. That change is coming! Ironically, an unchanging God gives us hope of anticipated change. The OT Job expresses the hope of a coming change: “If a man die, shall he live again? all the days of my appointed time will I wait, till my change come.” (Job 14:14). The NT Apostle Paul gives voice to a promised coming change: “Behold, I shew you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.” (1Co 15:51-52). Are you beleaguered? Embattled? Weary? Bored? Discouraged? Hurting? Take a walk. Step on crispy leaves. Listen to the cadence of crunching leaves. For every four steps you take you will hear, “Change is com-ing. Change is com-ing! Change is com-ing!” --Pastor Clifford Hurst