Lifeless?

The last leaf has fallen from the maple trees in front of our house. The green grass is slowly turning to brown as cold air settles in to stay. November is here.

As the wind whirls dead leaves around me, it would be easy to assume that the middle of November here in the Midwest is lifeless. There are no green leaves on the trees; brown clematis vines rattle against the lamp post; impatiens have wilted away from frostbite. Everything seems quite dead.

The brisk winds have blown all the leaves off the trees.

But wait! Just below the clematis skeleton are purple chrysanthemums, still colorful and able to withstand the light frost the past few nights have seen.

A fat brown squirrel stubbornly chews away at a pumpkin. He knows what treasure awaits him inside, and when he finally gets to those pumpkin seeds, he carries away each seed to help him stay plump.

The ground is not yet too frozen for mud pies, as my two little girls discover. The chill in the air is not enough to keep them inside!

As I think about all these things, I am reminded of the trip my father took this weekend. He drove up to Minnesota and visited a quiet place where my mother is buried. I can imagine the silent stones overlooking the small lake; the cold Minnesota wind whistling over the hill, making that place seem indeed lifeless.

That must have been how the women at the tomb felt on that that early Sunday morning, as lifeless as the tomb in front of them.

But wait! Just inside the lifeless tomb are two angels! They are certainly not lifeless, and neither was our Lord when He rose on that third day!

Today we celebrate Christ the King Sunday, and as we remember that wonderful day when He rose from the grave, we are reminded why He is the King of Heaven and Earth. And when we reach that heavenly shore, we will wonder why we thought death was lifeless, because that thought couldn’t be farther from the truth of eternal life that Jesus brings.

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Weeping Willow

As I sit here at my desk, a gust of wind rattles and shakes the window. Long willow leaves blow by; I can see them floating in the air. The morning sun is shining through the golden leaves of our weeping willow.

It won’t be long now; soon the back yard will be covered with a soft blanket of snow. The first snowfall often arrives before the last willow leaves have fallen.

The willow tree in our back yard is one of the reasons we bought our house. This tree wasn’t the only reason, of course; this house was in our price range and had enough room for us. The large, green weeping willow we saw through the kitchen window pushed Ed and I toward the decision to buy our house.

This stately tree reigns over our yard.

Squirrels scamper up and down and around this tree trunk. Little girls cling to the branches hanging down, run around and around,  and laugh at the leaves brushing their faces. One day, I heard the screech of a red-tailed hawk. I looked out the window and saw it perched at the top of the willow. I have even stood in our driveway at night and heard the hoot of an owl, which I imagined was in our willow tree.

The willow tree is always in the background, always in view, staunch and steady like a faithful sentry.

This tall, tall tree has been struck by lightning. It has withstood extreme bursts of wind and days of blizzard. It has been subject to a chainsaw many times. We have it checked by our “tree guy” often.

This tree continues to awe me with its beauty and grace.

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