Undoing Autumn

Yesterday I went outside to check on my peoples, and I found them doing this:

Yes, they are gluing fallen leaves back onto a dead branch.

There are a number of places I could take this, philosophically speaking. I could wax poetical about my children's subconscious sympathy for dying things, creative act as mourning ritual. I could theorize that my kids were quietly engaging in the timeless quest for immortality, the age-long war against death and decay. I could meander down the path of scriptural symbolism: abiding, the vine and the branches, dead works, pruning.

But you know what? Instead I'm going to going to go out on a limb (snort) and say that my kids were just being kids. They saw what looked like the raw materials for a tree, free for the taking, and they thought, "Hey, we could make our own tree!" So they did.

At the end of another week of demanding parenting, once again I find myself blessing the Lord for Meg and Matthew's creativity. Maybe that's because it reminds me that they are more than instruments for my sanctification, and so much more than little savages needing civilization. (Though they're certainly not less than that!) With leaves, branch and glue sticks, they were imaging God, the great and tireless Creator of All. And so their little craft project, odd as it was, served as a much-needed reminder of their beautiful humanity.

(You see, the philosophy would get in to this post, invited or not!)