For the glory of the forest is but a sign of decay. Though it is a joyful thing to behold a forest, it is a painful thing to stoop and pick up a browned, crumpled leaf.

And so also does it go with this forest of human beings: we love it in its motion and its glow. We love it as a flaming mass of feelings, a sea of spirits, an endless undulation of thoughts that rise and fall over the hills and dales of life.

Indeed we often love this glorious life as if it were to last forever in the very form of its autumnal splendor. But winter comes, and the leaves fall and lose their glamour. And it is then that they most need our love.

For winter comes to all of us. And I do not mean the winter of death, but the winter of trials and pain, of disease and solitude, of temptation and sin.

Those who need our love are the fallen, crumpled leaves: the poor and downtrodden, the humble and despised, the discouraged and confused. Those need it too who suffer in the terrible night of the spirit, those who crave God’s love and feel it not, who believe in God and see him not, who hope in God and reach him not.

Those are the fallen leaves that need our love. Those are the crumpled leaves that need our care.

Reprinted with permission from Alleluia Press, Allendale, New Jersey, 07401.