Last week and this week, I took some brightly colored fall leaves into the prison. I laid them out on the table at the beginning of each individual soul care session. There’s always a delightful look of surprise. It’s been many years since the women I companion have seen fall leaves. They reverently pick up each leaf. And personal stories begin to flow.
One shares memories of playing in the leaves as a child. She talks about trying to reclaim delight and enjoyment. Another shares that the front yard of her home was covered in leaves the last time she saw her father. She talks about him and his importance in her life. She tells me, “This is the first time I’ve been able to grieve.” Another, who has been incarcerated for decades, talks about the leaves reaching the height of their life when they are close to death, but even when they fall, they can nourish the soil and provide warmth and shelter for creatures in the winter. She identifies with the leaves. She hopes to soon be released and longs to use the remaining years of her life to be of service in the community. Each session is marked by delight, memories, tears, healing and decisions.
A small thing, but it has been transformative for me also. As I go out for my daily walk, I’m thinking about the individual women I companion in soul care. I intentionally notice the individual leaves—no two alike. The coloring of each is unique. I pray for each of the women. It makes me smile to think a small gesture, sharing some fall leaves, can bring joy, amazement, and even touch a place a person has never been able to talk about before.
Listening to their responses, I realize how much I take for granted. How much I miss unless I am intentional about noticing the blessings around me. Intentional about being present to nature that offers so many gifts, not the least of which are beauty and healing. What a gift these women are to my own growth! I try to bring them my best. But I am abundantly blessed by them in return.