Wither

They are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its season, and their leaves do not wither. In all that they do, they prosper. – Psalm 1:3 (NRSV) 

The psalmist says the wise and righteous are like trees whose leaves do not wither. By which we learn that the psalmist did not live in Zone 5b. Around these parts, if your leaves don’t wither every fall, you’re not going to make it through the winter. You’ll lose more water through them than you can pull in through the frozen ground; the snow piling up on them will break your branches right off; the barely-there sunlight will mean that you spend more energy to keep your green solar panels out than they can bring in. The best thing to do is to pull your nutrients back inside, wither your leaves, and rest. 

Of course, it’s possible to keep your leaves all winter. But they’ll have to get narrow, and prickly, and covered with a thick protective layer that refuses to give anything away. Getting near you will be difficult. Anyone who actually touches you is likely to end up hurt. 

The conditions around here are just so harsh. If you don’t take some time to rest while the storms rage, they will pile stuff on you until they break you in half. If you’re not careful, your constant drive to produce with fewer and fewer resources will starve you to death.  

Unless you want to cover yourself in needles, you’re going to have to senesce. A controlled wither on your own terms might just be the thing that keeps the world from forcing you to wither forever. 

Prayer
Grant me withering in season, o God. And grant that when the time comes, I’m still here and full of rising sap. Amen.

About the Author
Quinn G. Caldwell is Chaplain of the Protestant Cooperative Ministry at Cornell University. His most recent book is a series of daily reflections for Advent and Christmas called All I Really Want: Readings for a Modern Christmas. Learn more about it and find him on Facebook at Quinn G. Caldwell.