Sometimes I feel like a naked tree. Lost all my color. Gray. Exposed. Cold. Raw to the elements of life. That’s close to where I’m at right now. The wonderful thing, though, about naked trees is that heir branches are ripe for filling, ripe for new life. Like the fresh buds of March, on frozen mornings. It’s still cold, it’s still empty, but new life is coming.
Beauty in the ugly. Life in the lifeless. The power of resurrection in us.