Monday, April 12, 2010

Dear God,

I was cleaning out autumn debris when I bumped the woody stem. It fell aside when I leaned under the bush and picked at the other side of it. It fell too. That's when I could see that the original center of the four foot bush was dead. I picked up both pieces and held them in my hands. I looked back and realized that nothing was left of the original bush; it had all died. All that remained was new.

Throughout the last few years the old wood had rotted, split, died and fallen away. Now all the limbs and branches of the colorful bush were new and smooth. Somewhere along the way something had happened. While the old was dying, the new was being birthed. How, I have no idea. I just know it is a new bush although it is the same bush in the same location and it is strong, healthy and resplendent with plentiful clusters of pink and white blossoms.

What a wonderful metaphor for new life, I thought. Oh, to let the old die within me, to let the new live, taking its place. How miraculous it is to imagine that such an event is possible. How extraordinary that the dead wood in life can be removed making space for the new to take over, to radiate its beauty.

It is
your divine,
creative power
that makes
all things new,
dear God.
It is true
that the old
must pass away
and the
tender, new shoot
rise up.
What is mind boggling
to me,
O God,
is that
the old
and the new
live together
until the
season's change.
You are
the great mystery,
the changeover,
the transfiguration,
the revolution
and conversion.
All becomes new
in your hands.
All glory
be to you,
Wondrous God.

Love, Andrea