Winter’s descent upon the trees in my yard has stripped them clean. No more leaves or seed remain. Their gray woody branches poke bravely upward to the sky. Here we are, they say.
I look at these trees and know that their nakedness is seasonal, not permanent. Encoded within each one is the mandate for regeneration, life that comes in showy leaves and blossoms. We wait for it, and each spring it proves the truth.
This pattern of scaling back and waiting and coming to life once again is embedded in nature, the creation that I am part of. I am one of the created too—like the stark trees, I endure a seasonal stripping, giving the branches of my soul the chance to stand brave and tall on their own. In their barren state they too reach up toward the heavens, waiting for a spiritual spring to unfold new life.
All of nature waits like this. Winter must come, must run its course.
Today, the trees in my yard received a gift—a blanket, fluffy and white. It looks regal, like a royal stole. I am reminded of the covering that makes my soul white as the snow that wraps the branches. It is the covering of Christ, making me clean, covering my naked soul.
The covering incubates the Life planted in my being, the very Life that brings the spiritual spring with all its leafy greens and flowering blooms. I wait in Him, resting, like the trees in my yard. It will come.
I really enjoyed this the picture is great but the words add to it and turn the picture into 3D. Please, Please do not take what I say next as any form of criticism for it is not. I write a lot of times in verse form, and this writing makes me wonder what it would look like in verse form. In this writing of yours is all the bones of a great poem! I know I see this world in ways differ from the rest for I have been blessed with dyslexia. No matter I love this post and have been blessed by it. God Bless you, James