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Archive for the ‘Nature’ Category

Wind

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Humans have harnessed the wind—as it goes along its merry way to who knows where—to suck water from its hiding place underground and to create power. We image bearers mimic the work of the Spirit, the breath of God. 

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When we refuse to put away the iconic testimonies of childhood, a harsh nostalgia can grow—a reminder and echo of an ancient voice, “When I became a man, I set aside the things of childhood.”

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The cool mornings and slow warm-ups keep the wasps sluggish this time of year. But the late afternoon sun and warm days bring them out to swarm the few fall flowers that remain. Goldenrod, especially, the diner of choice it seems. Like a farmer, collecting the fall crops before the first freeze, so too the winter-loathing wasp gathers nectar—a last sustenance perhaps? While not venturing out in the morning, they redeem the afternoon, busy with the task at hand. What must I learn? What must I attend to?What sluggishness must I throw off, for unlike the wasp, can I not avoid a cold winter of the soul by redeeming the time?

 

 

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Grass blades are trees

To weave your web between,

 

And dew drops—the decoration

Like neon lights on the strip.

 

Insignificance unnoticed in the dark

Becomes brilliance highlighted by the dawn.

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What’s he doing, daddy?

What’s who doing, little bit?

That bee.

Oh, he’s collecting pollen from that corn stalk.

Why does he do that? Doesn’t the plant need it?

The plant does need it and so does the bee.

But how can they both use it? The plant can’t keep the bee off.

No, the plant wants the bee to take its pollen.

I don’t want someone to take my toys.

No, I suppose not. But the bee takes the pollen back to the hive for food for other bees.

That’s nice. But what about the plant?

The plant needs some of the pollen to move from one place to another so it will grow properly.

But if the bee takes it, how will that happen?

As the bee moves around on the plant, some of the pollen moves around too and gets in the right place.

Oh, so since the plant doesn’t have any fingers, the bee does that?

Right.

And so the plant doesn’t care if the bee takes what’s left over.

No, I don’t think the plant cares about leftovers.

But if the plant was stingy and didn’t let the bee come over, it wouldn’t grow, would it?

No, it wouldn’t.

But since it’s not stingy, the bee gets to eat and so do we.

That’s right.

And there’s enough here that we can even have leftovers.

Good thing the plant shared, huh?

Yeah, and I’ll share my corn with you.

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Is it bad to have a mixed bag of ready and not so ready? Mature and immature? Sweet and bitter? While I wouldn’t recommend picking the yellow blueberries, when it comes to life, the mixed bag is unavoidable. The immature and bitter inhabit our world just like the mature and sweet, often hanging on the same vine of family or work or church—or even in us. We must not be so presumptuous to assume that we are fully developed. Might there be a tinge of bitterness? Could that blue tint of maturity that faces the sun blind us to a shade of red or pink in the shadows?  We must guard our hearts against bitterness when the injustices and hardships and disappointments of life invade. For only then will we grow and mature into the sweet image of our creator.

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A flower chain can stretch as far as the imagination can see and as far as perseverance holds out. But what if along the way, “The World’s Longest Flower Chain” becomes just a necklace or a streamer to hang on a lemonade stand that stole the limelight from the flower chain? What happens to the left over stems and petals? Instead of remaining a possible landing pad for a bee, they get tossed on the porch and forgotten—until the late afternoon sun gives them one last moment of glory.

Faded usefulness. Forgotten dreams. Tossed aside creativity. No—always a masterpiece.

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