Before I go any further, I have to tell you I stole the title, “Beautiful Death” from my friend Sarah. A couple years ago, Sarah was going for a run in Seattle where God gave her the idea for this book. She was surrounded in brilliantly colored fall leaves on a crisp autumn afternoon when the thought came, “There is beauty in death”. Every Fall season, nature seems to groan as it gives way to death and ushers in the next season. But what a beautiful transition! The leaves turn unique shades of reds, oranges and yellows, seemingly undisturbed by the fate for which they are destined. They go out with a bang! Unafraid, they sing a beautiful melody on their way out.
It looks to me as if they know their death results in something more beautiful and crucial than a pro-longed life.
It is particularly stormy today in the great Northwest. It snowed last night and this morning. The wind is blowing determinedly to knock any remaining leaves off the trees. People are driving slower and more carefully on the slick roads. Power outages, comfort foods, and smoke billowing out of chimneys are the result.
A couple hours ago, I was stopped at a red light and noticed something peculiar. A flock of birds were diving, swooping and dancing on the stormy winds.
They looked like they were having a field day in the midst of the storm!
I’ve heard Eagles do the same thing. While storms rage, eagles rise to a level higher and soar on the current provided by the gusts below. The storms aren’t a time for them to hide in the nest or take cover in a ledge. It is a time for them to soar.
I wondered about the Truth in this. If the dying seasons and storms of life are in fact beautiful and a time to soar? A time to try out these wings and step off the cliff, trusting the wind to catch me. Trusting the breath of God to hold me up and allow me to soar. To allow beauty to be birthed in me and rest snugly on my head as I lift my hands and sing of the Hope of restoration and redemption that is promised us. Contrary to the world and the things we can physically see, the hard times are the beautiful times. They stand as times of preparation and refining.
They stand as times to dance.
