Autumn's Gift

When my father’s cancer was diagnosed, he and my mother decided to move near me and take advantage of medical care that was not readily available in their rural community. I was their youngest daughter, and honored to be able to help them. But Dad had another reason. My husband and I have a few acres where we keep cattle and horses, a garden and some woods. Dad, I knew, had given some consideration to that.

For years Mom and Dad had worked their farm in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. My father loved the land and the woods. He cut his own firewood and fence posts, and made a few dollars from the sale of timber. Mostly, though, the woods were his spiritual retreat. Dad said he often felt even closer to God while resting on a mossy stump watching deer and squirrels than he did while sitting in a pew on Sunday.

Every season held something wondrous for Dad. He loved the wildflowers of spring, and the fragrance of evergreens after a summer rain. Every fall he and Mom made a “color tour” around the state. Even the hushed solitude of the woods in the winter brought joy to Dad.

After they moved near us in Battle Creek, he and Mom drove over to our place to enjoy the feel of the country. While Mom picked wild blueberries, Dad dreamed aloud of clearing the underbrush from our woods. But his declining health never permitted him to do more than dream, and Dad was not able to go for the long walks that had given him such spiritual regeneration through the years.

On a bright blue day one October, Mom and I took Dad for an appointment at the oncology unit of the local medical center. Afterward, Dad tried to be cheerful—even though the cancer was advancing rapidly. I patted his shoulder as I wheeled him toward the car, feeling profoundly sad. Suddenly, in the middle of that large, treeless, windless parking lot, a single perfect maple leaf drifted dreamily down from above, landing in front of Dad’s wheelchair, settling at his feet. Dad leaned over, picked it up and smiled.

Not long after, Dad left the maple trees and his beloved woods behind. I still have that maple leaf on my desk. It reminds me that when my father was too weak to go to the woods, God brought the woods to him.