Oh, To Be a Leaf

Of all the little creatures of this world that I might compare myself to, I am most certainly a worm. In my smallness and shortcomings, my home is in the dirt. The grime and grunt work of my daily life is not glamorous, nor am I. The stains of sin that I accumulate throughout the day mar the appearance of my soul, not unlike the dust and squalor that clings to a worm as it writhes towards nowhere. Despite the temptation to wallow in my misery, it is actually a comfort to know that God delights in even the worms. For He made them good, and with a noble purpose. Like a worm, I do my work, slowly and quietly, aiding the flowers around me while hidden in the mire. Just as a worm after the toil of tilling the earth finds comfort and safety in the cool mud after rain, so too do I seek refuge in front of my Lord in the Blessed Sacrament. To some, my slime and lowliness is repulsive, to others, it is the very thing that makes me dear to them. I recognize in my littleness that I am made good, and that I was made with care. I have my small role, and I play it as well as I can. However, I see my unworthiness in the face of the infinite splendor of my Creator and wonder if a worm is all I can ever be. 

Is there a way to become more by being the least? St. Francis of Assisi believed so. By becoming even less than a worm, one can find greater fulfillment than humanly fathomable. It is in this pursuit that I aspire to be a leaf. Trading the status of an animated creature with control and dynamism for an inanimate frond of plant matter is at first counter intuitive. Why surrender autonomy for complete impotency? Ah, but is that truly the case? Certainly, a leaf has little to no merit of its own, but when it is acted on by forces outside of itself, it is elevated to a position far greater than a worm could ever drag itself to. A leaf in all its simplicity and vulnerability has a far greater capacity for beauty. By becoming

less, one could become so much more.

I desire to be a leaf, for the beauty of a leaf is undeniable. In her very nature, a leaf belies her own complexity. Each branching vein creates a pattern more detailed than the costliest brocade. Her colors in all their hues are more pleasing and bring more joy than the greatest worldly accomplishments. 

The fallen cottonwood adorned with dew drops that sparkle as the sun rises signals a nod of encouragement as the day begins. The tumbling and swirling dance of an aspen blown high into the sky by a tumultuous wind has more freedom than any fruitless struggle of an independent nematode. 

The lacy frost that curls around the edges of a maple is no accomplishment of its own, but it nonetheless gives glory to God by its acquiescence to Him. The gentle rustling of willow leaves on trailing, mournful tendrils offer solace in their contentment. A blade of grass presenting a drop of rain to a thirsty ant acts

in charity as it stoops under its burden. Even the pine needles, in all their sharpness, present a stoic and steadfast devotion in the face of changing seasons.

Complete abasement is the paradox that facilitates the glorification of the soul. The outpouring of self, to give until one is entirely used up, is the surest way to elevate the soul to the highest possible rank. Full surrender allows for total receptivity to divine grace, which then overflows into the world. To love God with every fiber of one’s being, one must be perfectly united to Him. For this to happen, one must cease to be a worm, and strive to become even less.

Oh, to be a leaf.