When the Leaves Begin to Fall

Written By Sherian McCoy

Fall reminds us that leaves must fall before the tree can rest and grow again. Parents, the same is true of your prayers—none are wasted, even when it looks barren.

“Let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”

— Galatians 6:9 (ESV)

I planned to write this differently, but my heart is heavy. Our country feels divided, and many of us also feel divided from our children. This is The Father’s Porch—where we keep the light on, where we pray, and where we remind one another we’re not alone. If you’re hurting too, I’m sitting with you here.

Sometimes life events happen that on their own tear at our heart and grieve our spirit. Then, our own personal life situations and relationships compel the grief to grow and seed deeper. The blanket of grief on that winter porch is screaming—PICK ME UP! And you might, for a moment. But soon it’s there again, growing in the gap between our expectations and reality.

And yet—just like fall leaves must fall before new life comes in spring, our grief, too, can be a holy place. In that very gap, remember the graciousness and mercy of God. He steps into the space between what we long for and what we live through.

This grief, sadness, frustration was not simply dropped off by the enemy. It had to be permitted by the Father. Not because of something we’ve done, but because He is inviting us closer to Him.

The weight you may carry becomes lighter because you aren’t carrying it—He is.

This is where the invitation comes: to press into the Lord, even when it feels easier to pull away. Allow Him to comfort you. Release what is not serving your heart toward holiness. Lay down the bitterness, the fear, the “what ifs,” and the questions you cannot answer. And then—sit with Him. He runs to you, too. He is your portion, your rest, your strength when everything else feels fragile.

Remember, the porch is not just a place of waiting; it’s a place of meeting. As surely as the father in Luke 15 ran to meet his prodigal son, our Father runs to meet us in our grief, our prayers, and our lament. He doesn’t wait for us to be whole before He comes near—He comes near so we can be whole.

So today, if we are to lament, let’s lament as Scripture invites us:

“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.”

— Lamentations 3:24 (ESV)


Friend, fall reminds us that letting go isn’t the end—it’s part of the process.

Your prayers are seeds. Your tears are water. And in due season, you will see fruit.

Sherian McCoy

Hi, I’m Sherian Kaneaster-McCoy—storyteller, porch-sitter, ministry founder, wife, mother, grandmother, and follower of Jesus.

I’ve spent the last two decades walking with women through the hard things—grief, chronic illness, prodigal children, burnout, and healing. I serve as a practitioner in Dr. Tracey Stroup’s Eat, Pray, Faith telehealth practice, where I support clients needing help physically as well as emotionally and spiritually. I’m also honored to serve as Dean of Education at the Academy of Abiding Wellness, equipping others to walk in biblical wisdom and holistic health.

Alongside this work, The Father’s Porch has become a sacred space where I pour out the stories God has written on my heart.

This ministry was born from my own journey as a parent of a prodigal and a lifelong porch-praying woman. It’s a space for the weary—a resting place for those still waiting, still hoping, still praying. Through devotional writing, prayer, and gentle truth, I help others find God in the middle of the story, not just at the end.

Whether I’m telling stories from Scripture or sharing pieces of my own life, I believe in the power of honest words and porchlight hope. The porch is open. The light is on. There’s always a seat for you.

https://www.selahnaturalhealth.com
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When You Can’t Do, You Can Pray