I sit at my computer intending to write. It’s a mostly gray day, but my eyes keep drifting out the window where I’m captivated by a few random bits of sunlight that cast a warm glow on dappled leaves. 

I give in to the distraction, pull on my well-worn cardigan and head outside for a walk under tall trees. Here in southern Indiana, fall squares with the calendar. Clusters of leaves remain on sturdy branches late into November. I’m happy to be out in the brisk air, feeling very Mr. Rogersesque, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of my nubby sweater. And then I remember the autumn story. 

I read it in a book years ago, written by a reporter who once interviewed Fred Rogers and remained friends with him until his death. One autumn day toward the end of Roger’s life, reporter Amy Hollingsworth, took a walk and noticing the color of the leaves, prayed for her friend. The reporter knew the science behind the changing foliage. She understood that the chlorophyll responsible for making leaves green in spring and summer, wears away in fall, allowing golds, ambers and glimmering reds to blaze forward. The young woman found herself struck by the idea of “true colors,” she observed on the autumn leaves and in the life of her older mentor.

I think about this story as I walk along the river path. I stop to examine the mottled red-bronze maple at the next crossroad. Thanksgiving is just a few days away, and I reflect on this concept of “true colors.” In a culture embracing vintage items, and not vintage people, I realize how strangely grateful I am to be here in this season. I feel rooted, content and thankful God has provided the invitation to continue to remain in Him. I notice a warm gratitude welling inside at the prospect of living the “true colors,” He’s ordained for me in this season of life. I embrace the day, the season, the meaning of this autumn story with a full heart and notice a warm glow inside.

But what about you? It may feel like a stretch to thank God for the gift of years, when your year has been marked by loss and heartache. I know this as I look up into the golden-red maple. I pray for those of you who are in a season of mourning, and not of dancing. And as I pray, I wonder. Could living our true colors include bringing God that raw ache, the fragile brokenness of loss, asking Him to come into the dark and empty places? Could living our true colors mean remaining in Immanuel, who invites us to abide in Him, the very same God who came to earth so He could feel, then heal our broken hearts?

And what lessons can we learn from Mr. Rogers, this legend of a man who evoked the image of true color living? What did this unabashed disciple of Jesus model to children of every age about acknowledging heartbreak and being gentle with ourselves and others? I look up at the maple again with its glimmering reds, and notice some brittle browns hanging on too – this body of variegated autumn leaves clinging to the same tree, bright and beautiful, brittle and broken. A little like living in the same house with joy and pain and Jesus. A little like life lived in true colors. 

God’s grace and peace as you remain in Him, reflecting on your own true and brilliant colors during this season of thanks.