Autumn in the Apple Tree
Recovering What Was Lost
I adore Autumn. I love everything about it. The crisp, cool mornings, like the fresh bite of a tart apple. The radiant colors that adorn the trees. I love the meaning of falling leaves, that life is even more beautiful as it surrenders to the coming winter. We rake these leaves into piles and discard them in burn barrels or trash bins, but that doesn’t diminish the glory they held as they drifted to the earth.
What I most love about autumn are the long-buried memories I reclaimed from the apple tree on Idlewood Road.
I’ve lived for many years with the memories of a deeply troubled past. I’m an adult who carries within my soul all the younger selves I have ever been, a jumbled-up collection of people, places, and events that comprise who I now am. Because I endured deep childhood trauma, many memories were saturated with the fear and pain I experienced during those moments of my young life. I couldn’t even recall the magical childhood moments that once sparkled with joy because they were so attached to the traumatic events that surrounded them. The result was that I suppressed even my happy memories because of the fear they evoked when I remembered them.
In my memoir, She’s Still In There: Healing the Wounded Child Within, I describe the journey that uncovered the young girl within me whose wounded heart desperately needed healing. Read an excerpt from a session with my therapist in which I first became aware that Little Lisa was still actively present in my daily life:
“Something important is happening with you Lisa…There is a fragmented part of you, an important component of your life, that you have closeted away for many years. This happens to children who are severely traumatized. As they grow up and mature, they lock away their younger selves and all the pain and fear they experienced. It’s more than just suppressing emotion or memory—we all do that to varying degrees. What I’m talking about is an element of your personality that you put away for a very long time, an unhealed part of you. Our younger selves can remain beneath the surface of our conscious minds for many years. But they don’t stay there…” (pg. 298)
Our young hearts are the places where we most clearly see God. No wonder Jesus loved and tenderly blessed children, why he declared that the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these. Jesus is fiercely devoted to healing our young places so that we can experience the fullness of his love for us.
Over the course of several months, Jesus healed my Little Lisa, a deeply spiritual process that changed me forever. When this occurred, the traumatizing memories from my childhood lost their power over me. As a result, I was able to recall poignant moments that revealed the curious, imaginative young girl who is still very much a part of me.
The child who hid in the apple tree fort, surrounded by ripe fruit and green-gold leaves, and scribbled stories and poems under the dusky sky of a chilly fall evening.
The girl who wandered the autumn woods behind the house on Idlewood Road, letting the brisk breezes and drifting leaves transform her into a woodland princess or a potion-wielding sorceress.
The Halloween kitty cat dressed in black pajamas and painted whiskers who collected pounds of sweets from the neighbors in a paper sack.
“My young soul knew that the story I inhabited was much bigger and more amazing than my ordinary life. But I didn’t learn until much later that my wanderings and imaginings were an outward expression of my heart’s desire for a world that God created long ago, a yearning he placed inside me. The woods, the trees, and the mythic stories created the setting in which my young heart experienced a glimpse of God’s glorious, creative realm, a place of great beauty where love and goodness reigned. A place where I belonged.” (page 12)
When my thoughts meander back to the magical autumn moments of my childhood, my heart warms with thanksgiving. If my younger self had never experienced deep spiritual healing, these moments would have remained trapped under the fearful events that covered them, like treasures hidden under piles of discarded leaves. So much joy, so much creativity, so much of my story would have been lost.
So I decorate my home with pumpkins, acorns, and scented candles, sip apple cider, and cuddle under my favorite fall blanket knowing that I don’t need to fear the coming winter, or any other season for that matter. My past and my future are safe in the loving hands of God.
Beautifully written, it caused me to ponder my own childhood memories and ask myself where did the happy memories go?
Lisa Chakerian
Our family also experienced deep childhood trauma. My older brother is recently on hospice and my goal is to help him remember and celebrate some good memories. I write and speak about reconciliation, and you bring me new thoughts on the subject. Thank you for sharing your story.