t is true; I have to admit it: I am ever increasingly bored in church. And I do believe with good reasons, but more on those at some other time. My saving grace has been to bring my journal and pen and see where my thoughts take me. One frosty Sunday morning, waiting for the service to finally be over, eyes glued on the glorious nature outside the large windowed wall of our sanctuary, I wrote the following poem (no doubt that it is self revealing), so all was not lost.
Oh you leafless tree
You bundle of bare, wooden arms and fingers
Frantically groping for new life
You pathetic and naked collection of sticks and twigs
Still bound to trunk and bark
How cruelly the maple orphans her stoic branches
And the mighty oak humbles summer’s lofty limbs
How humiliating this sapless slumber
How bitter this winter exit,
leaving pine and fir to take center stage
Cold and colder.
Dark and darker.
Until that long solstice night gives way to
Morning's magic light
Then all nature catches her breath
and is dazzled by the sight
Some mysterious Confectioner
has crafted from their boughs
A frosted bouquet of delight
O you leafless tree
Redeemed from your shameful uncovered state
Crowned with sparkling ice diamonds
Standing nobly before this Bavarian blue curtain
to receive a winter encore
For even out of your cold, dark, lifeless enemy,
Heaven has made something beautiful.