Pests Tell a Story

In my hand I hold a spark of life
from a thousand oaks that were
and a thousand yet to be
In my hand I hold an acorn

Inside my hand is a spark of life
that has been passed to me
from thousands of ancestors
through two living cells united as one
a spark of life that has been alive
since first a man was inbreathed
by the One who created life.

What is this thing called life?
Is it some kind of energy?
Is it a frequency of sound or light?
It's expression is everywhere
It is every color of the rainbow
but not everything with color is alive
It responds to stimuli
but so does my tablet
and it definitely is not alive
Life increases, grows, multiplies
but not everything that grows is alive
Science can give life from life
Medicine can help a body heal
Can you create a spark of life
if you don't know what it is?

Death is always chasing life
Bound to extinguish its spark
Every time  it seems he's won
Life comes out of death.

The One who breathed life into Adam,
life that still remains in me,
opened my eyes to see
life and death and life in a bug
that's a pest to milkweed.
It was a fascinating show.

The larva of the bug

The larva leaves the pile of larvae and finds his way to a twig where he  fastens himself upside down, then begins to leave behind what he once was.

New legs unfolding

Almost complete

As soon as he's free, he turns himself right side up and rests a bit.

New bug, still developing

He crawls  back to his fellows, his wings lengthen and begin to change color

Still darkening

Finally, new bugs. The one on the far right is still darkening










Does it seem strange that the One who created life can and will resurrect life? In fact, He already has.

I am the Resurrection and the Life. Whoever believes in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live. John 11:25 

Seasons

In cold and silent winter,
Flowers die, leaves decay
like dreams of yesterday.
Are the trees struck with panic
as they tremble in the wind
fearing no return of spring
growing old, or losing sap?
Or do they rest in hope
of seasons yet to come,
of summer's wounds to heal,
content to garner strength
till winter's work is done.

When time was full, spring returned
So healing came, I know not how
while carried by the Shepherd
who gave His word that in every season,
"I have made you and I will carry you
I will sustain you and I will rescue you. Isaiah 46:4


Beside the river in the trees, I found some evidence of spring:

The very fragrant, poisonous to eat, May Apple



Sprawling redbud on the bank

 And Virginia Bluebells

Bluebells littering the ground

So captivated by bluebells, I almost missed the Canada Goose pair floating by.

They stopped to feed in a shallow spot in the river.

"To everything, turn, turn, turn,
There is a season, turn, turn, turn
                And a time to every purpose, under heaven".  The Byrds, quoting Ecc. 3:1








"Preparation time is never wasted time." Andrew Womack

Desert Musings

The Australian desert is beautiful, at least where I was.

The silent desert
envelopes, absorbs
the noise of living,

immerses me in stillness                         
My heart can hear.



The light of His face
overcomes the clouds
of confusion, doubt and fear
My heart can see.








Let my roots grow deep
like thirsty roots of desert oak,
that burrow through the desert sand,
finding water that leads to life,
to healthy trees, alive with sap.

Always and forever

Grief is a fickle fellow
He pays his visits
unannounced
at odd moments

Today I saw your picture   
And my heart cried out in pain
You and I were young again
Always and forever friends
I saw our time together
I thought of what I'd say
if only I could reach you
Surely not for you I weep
But for the love so sorely missed
For all that might have been
I grieve, but not in vain
for the One who bore my griefs
takes every tear unto Himself
gives me comfort, hope and peace
I am free to celebrate
who you were, the love we shared
so glad you were in my life.
Till we meet again.......

I will not leave you comfortless, I will come to you...John 14:18

Assembly

A congregation 

assembles to testify
at early sunrise.

Or you could say...

Under my window
the flock assembles
to sing
at early sunrise.

And one more....

On porch step risers
the choir gathers
to rehearse
at early sunrise

Sleepless

Sleep eludes me
ducks into a closet
filled with yesterday's dreams
One by one I dust them off
and stack them on the shelf
"That's impossible,
You're too old for that,
Not good enough for this.
Don't bother with them anymore."
Shall I let them sleep
Leave them for buzzard food?





Maybe it would be better
to give them to the One
who turned the water into wine.

Ichabod?

The glory has departed
and soon the house will follow.

Nothing holds her here
The laughter of the living,
The words of the wise,
The folly of the fool,
recorded on her walls
are consigned to silence.
A strip of tin from the roof
flaps in the wind
as if to say good-by
but still she waits.

Does she wait for science
to unlock her mysteries?
Or to be laid to rest in peace,
destiny fulfilled?

She was laid to rest
in a blaze of glory.