When Autumn Leaves Fall

By Sr. Mary Angela Battung RGS

Sr Angela Battung has been a missionary in Canada for many years now.  She’s had the chance to work in different ministries and here below she shares with us special thoughts as she looks forward to another Christmas in Canada.

I took a long walk one afternoon to enjoy the glorious Fall day, soaking in the warmth of the sun, conscious that pretty soon the cold would be forcing me to stay indoors more often. I met my Korean friend, Rita, and a Polish lady who goes with her regularly to feed the geese and ducks in the park. I joined them as they fed their feathered friends. After a while I retreated to a beach nearby to wait while they made their rounds around the huge lake.

Autumn show

I decided to take in the beautiful scenery: children running around under blazing  trees and many people enjoying  their walk.  As I quietly sat on a bench alone, the leaves – golden, fiery red, crimson or pale yellow – were praising God in their brilliant intensity while putting on a show for me.  They showed their various ways of letting go.  Some leaves went alone, sinking smoothly into the pile waiting below.  Some went by twos or threes, stumbling and spilling over each other.  There were a few who went down courageously, nose-diving like bomber planes while some twirled around like disciplined ballet dancers.  Thousands of them, now fallen, carpeted the ground, compliant and subdued as people walked upon them.

Pleasure in routine

The noise of the geese and the excited chatter of my friends forced me to leave my solitary reflection and rejoin them.  They were carrying a very lively and intimate conversation that only so many hours, days and months or years of doing this ritual together have made possible.  As I became once more a part of the “feeding ceremony”, I thought of commitment and routine.  To the two ladies this was not routine, it was their commitment that made their daily trips to the park meaningful and pleasurable.

Rise and fall

As I write this article, I am looking forward to another Christmas in Canada.  During my first Christmas here as a missionary, I felt so lost, alone and confused.  My mission seemed so empty; my ministries were like the falling leaves, plunging into a pile that was swept away quickly into oblivion.  Now, on this cold November afternoon, I find that time has made my commitment to zeal possible.  Commitment, according to Joan Chittister, it simply:  The courage to face the rising sun with the promise to be there at its setting.

Low times

My days have not been simply a rising of the sun to its setting. There have been times when the dark nights seemed so long and the sky starless; when the sun seemed to be absent or reluctant to come out at dawn.  I’ve seen life in the raw.  I’ve ministered to persons wounded by sins and its consequences.  I’ve witnessed marriages breaking up, families disintegrating, child custody battles, the awful consequences of abortion.  I’ve listened to stories of exploitation, harassment, physical and sexual abuse, child abuse, racial conflicts.  These were just one of the many times when I was confronted with a great cry for God’s tender compassion and healing forgiveness.  These were times of anger, confusion and despair.

Promise of commitment

These were the times when I asked myself many questions.  And even up till now I still don’t have any answers to some of them.  I am sure only of one thing though:  to commit myself to God in zeal.  The zeal not just to do things but to be there for the broken people whose lives are so shattered, those people who need someone to be with them as they pick up the pieces of their lives while waiting for Jesus, the Good Shepherd and His healing and compassionate love, to make them whole again.

I pray that I may be gifted with the grace to remain committed to what is required of me to do now and, like the autumn leaves, the ability to let go and be open to where I shall be led.