Thoughts of Grace

This is an oak, not a juniper.
It is large and strong and steadfast and alive..

Good Morning

Today is the Farmer’s birthday. He is 72.
We have been together 45 years.
Usually when I read this I think of lasting love.
Today I know it describes the Farmer,
his strength, his dependability
and, yes, his love.

And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper. Psalm 1:3

“There is a tree. At the downhill edge of a long, narrow field in the western foothills of the La Sal Mountains — southeastern Utah. A particular tree. A juniper. Large for its species — maybe twenty feet tall and two feet in diameter. For perhaps three hundred years this tree has stood its ground. Flourishing in good seasons, and holding on in bad times. “Beautiful” is not a word that comes to mind when one first sees it. No naturalist would photograph it as exemplary of its kind. Twisted by wind, split and charred by lightning, scarred by brushfires, chewed on by insects, and pecked by birds. Human beings have stripped long strings of bark from its trunk, stapled barbed wire to it in using it as a corner post for a fence line, and nailed signs on it on three sides: NO HUNTING; NO TRESPASSING; PLEASE CLOSE THE GATE. In commandeering this tree as a corner stake for claims of rights and property, miners and ranchers have hacked signs and symbols in its bark, and left Day-Glo orange survey tape tied to its branches. Now it serves as one side of a gate between an alfalfa field and open range. No matter what, in drought, flood heat and cold, it has continued. There is rot and death in it near the ground. But at the greening tips of its upper branches and in its berrylike seed cones, there is yet the outreach of life.

I respect this old juniper tree. For its age, yes. And for its steadfastness in taking whatever is thrown at it. That it has been useful in a practical way beyond itself counts for much, as well. Most of all, I admire its capacity for self-healing beyond all accidents and assaults. There is a will in it — toward continuing to be, come what may.”
― Robert Fulghum, Uh-oh – Some Observations From Both Sides Of The Refrigerator Door

I am thankful for the Farmer . . . Everyday
With my prayers, desiring yours, Leslie