Word for Word October 2026

I started going gray early. I tried to ignore it at first- just plucking out any stray, wiry, rebellious hair the moment I saw a streak of whiteness. But eventually, they became more and more prolific, and I couldn’t just yank them all out. One morning when I had first joined the Navy, I was sitting in Chinese class, when all of a sudden, I felt as if I’d been stung on the crown of my head. I jerked up only to see my native-born Chinese teacher, “Wang Laoshi,” looming over me, studying the top of my head with laser sharp focus. Much to my chagrin, between her tiny fingers she already grasped one of my stringy, gray hairs, and she was eagerly searching for

more. I leaned towards the door in a desperate attempt to avoid her prying fingers. “You going gray! You too young to go gray,” she declared loudly and decisively in front of an entire class filled with my uniformed compatriots. I was tempted to respond that studying Chinese was giving me gray hair, but somehow, I managed to hold my tongue and merely shake my head, despite my inner mortification.

Unlike my response, nature seems to so easily embrace change- it almost seems to celebrate it. There is a tree behind our house that is always one of the first to start slowly turning colors in the late summer. One of the kids inevitably runs in the back door with the declaration that, “Fall is coming- the leaves are changing!” At first, it’s just a few trees here and there, but eventually we find ourselves surrounded by a vast array of orange, yellow, red, and golden-brown hues that I personally think are the most beautiful in the country. Ultimately though, despite their radiant beauty, the trees freely shed their crimson leaves to conserve energy and

prepare for a new, yet not so outwardly brilliant season. The external display of color gives way to a rejuvenation and deepening of life on the inside.

God is always calling us into a deeper relationship with Himself. Most often though, in order to follow that call, just like the trees in fall, we need to let go of something. In Hebrews 12:1, the Apostle Paul exhorts us to “… strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.”

Nobody can run a race with a loaded down pack, especially the second half of the race which most of us are in. By now we’ve been through a few things and it’s so easy to just fall into the same routine or sign up for the same things, year in, year out. Most of the extra stuff isn’t necessarily bad, sometimes it’s just no longer bearing any real fruit. Perhaps there are regrets, broken relationships, or things you’ve done or been through that just linger quietly, only showing themselves when you experience any sort of lull or silence.

I grew up a Christian, but I didn’t make my first confession until I was 38. Prior to this, I had only ever confessed to God in the quietness of my own heart, and sometimes even to other people, but the bigger things still lingered, like a shadow. The day I walked into the confessional and said those life-changing words, “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” was the same day a line was drawn in the sand and God Himself stripped off those weights that had been slowing me down. Or maybe you’ve never been baptized and are embarrassed to even ask because you think you’re too old. This is your sign- it doesn’t matter if you’re in the nursing home. Make the call. When done in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, the sacrament of baptism not only frees you from original sin, but also every other sin you’ve ever committed. The ultimate letting go. But maybe you’ve done all these things and you find yourself in a season of suffering, limitation, or are carrying a heavy cross. You would love to let go of it, but still it remains. Be

encouraged- believe it or not, you’re not only running the race, but you’re on the fast track. In his encyclical, Spe Salvi (On Christian Hope), Pope Benedict XVI reminds us that, “Man was created for greatness- for God himself; he was created to be filled by God. But his heart is too small for the greatness to which it is destined. It must be stretched” (§33). Imagine a leather shoe that is too tight, but when heat and pressure are applied, the natural fibers stretch, allowing for increased capacity. When we pass through desolations we don’t have to be perfect, we just need to remain flexible in His hands. But the question still remains- how do we let that go? We let it go by offering it up-daily, maybe even minute by minute. We offer up our suffering as an authentic, unadorned prayer from the heart, like the one in Gethsemane, that cries out, “God, not my will but yours-Jesus, I trust in you. I offer this suffering for the conversion of my loved ones. I offer this suffering for the intentions of your Sacred Heart. Jesus, I trust you for my restoration and the lifting of this burden, and until then I will share in your redemptive suffering” (Col. 1:24).

Beloved, be assured that spring will come again. Ultimately though- it’s not just about letting go- it’s about making room for more, just like that shoe. More of God, more joy, more peace. Letting go opens the door for something new. So today, when you see leaves falling to the ground, make it personal. And if your hair is changing color on the outside like mine, be encouraged, because on the inside we are being renewed day by day (2 Cor. 4:16). It’s time to let go and embrace the new season.