Greetings Dear Reader,
I think that we do not ponder often enough what leaves do
for us. Trees bud new leaves every
spring and they spend their lives turning carbon dioxide into oxygen. It is their created purpose and part of the
cycle on which we depend for the air we breathe.
If we ponder the deciduous cycle, leaves only have six or
seven months of life to serve their purpose.
Still, beyond the beauty of their task, the Father gives them physical
beauty as well. It is not lost on me
that “in every wood in every spring
there is a different green.”
I am sometimes overwhelmed by the majesty of spring in full bloom.
I also ponder the relationship between our breathing and the
production of oxygen. The bronchia in
our lungs that process the oxygen and carbon dioxide look very similar to the
roots of a tree or the veins in some leaves.
This vital system not only has beauty but is recreated to mirror
purposes. It is yet another layer of
practical wonder built into our amazing universe.
The leaves that will die and fall around us over the next few
weeks have given their lives to sustain ours.
Remembering this is vital to our understanding of just how intricate the
Father has made things for our lives to be viable. It is a good thing to spend some time in
gratitude whilst we enjoy the colors and wonder of Autumn. The dying leaves are the final act of leaves
as they return to the soil from which they sprang.
The death of leaves is and end and a promise Dear
Reader. The very air we breathe is a
gift and we must not take it for granted.
As the air crisps and the leaves drift on the wind, catch the smell of
them and whisper a prayer of gratitude with me.
Spring will return but for now, we have Autumn to remind us that in
death there is also hope.
I sit beside the
fire and think of all that I have seen,
Of meadow-flowers
and butterflies in summers that have been
Of yellow leaves
and gossamer in autumns that there were,
With morning mist
and silver sun and wind upon my hair
I sit beside the
fire and think of how the world will be
When winter comes
without a spring that I shall ever see
For still there are
so many things that I have never seen,
In every wood in
every spring there is a different green
I sit beside the
fire and think of people long ago,
Of people who will
see a world that I shall never know
But all the while I
sit and think of times there were before
I listen for
returning feet and voices at the door
Wishing you joy in the journey,
Aramis Thorn
Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every
writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a
homeowner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure
store.”
(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Contacts for Aramis
Thorn:
Bookings: aramisthorn@aramisthorn.com
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