Glistening in the morning thaw, they were all quite beautiful, like illustrious glass sculptures blossoming in the daylight. They were impossible not to notice. But the weight of such beauty was just too much for some to bear. For today, many of these titans have fallen.
“‘You were in Eden, the garden of God; every precious stone was your covering: the sardius, topaz, and diamond, beryl, onyx, and jasper, sapphire, turquoise, and emerald with gold. The workmanship of your timbrels and pipes was prepared for you on the day you were created.’” Ezekiel 28:13
I find meaning in everything I see; that’s just how my mind seems to work. I think God still has a few lessons for this old traveler to learn. Every sound, smile, event, and note contains a lesson waiting to be discovered—like a passing ice storm in southern Illinois, where the mighty trees around me bend under the weight of a thin, shimmering glaze. Even this event teaches something to my overly imaginative eye.
In the quiet aftermath of the storm, with a shovel in hand, I find myself surrounded by glimmering white branches and ancient trunks. Each tree reaches outward, poised to bear fruit in the coming season. Yet, weighed down by the press of the ice, its crystallized limbs now carry new burdens all their own. I notice that the broader the tree, the greater its peril, its limbs and trunk unable to hold. Though not immune, the smaller bushes and trees are less affected by such weight. The past evening’s ice storm has come at a cost, indeed.
“You were perfect in your ways from the day you were created,
Till iniquity was found in you.” Ezekiel 28:15
As the flakes continue to fall, I dwell on these thoughts while my shovel digs deeper into the snow. My mind drifts further, and I notice how I feel while I labor. It’s 34 degrees Fahrenheit, and I’m hot. I’m reminded that the key to staying warm under such conditions is to keep working and the ice will never form on my head.
“‘I know your works, that you are neither cold nor hot. I could wish you were cold or hot. So then, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will vomit you out of My mouth.’”
Revelation 3:15–16
Scattered throughout our neighborhood, so many giants have collapsed, yet by God’s grace, ours have thus far remained upright, though bowed in humility. It’s the ones unwilling to bend that are broken.
The survival of the trees around our home pleases me, since each one serves as a shelter for the many birds and critters who nest within their embrace. Our evergreen, oak, pine, and red cedar have all fared well through this winter’s gift and curse. It seems the nature of the plant determines its fate. Some, though mighty in appearance, are hollow inside. Yet others are strengthened by each ice storm and breeze, and they remain unfallen. With each new inclement challenge they become more likely to endure the next season, and the next, their roots running deeper with every gale.
Our neighborly bluebird and cardinal are hidden, but I can hear their rustlings among the branches and leaves of the evergreen just outside our door. They are not singing like they usually do. I toss a bit of seed on the open ground to sustain them yet another day. The forecast predicts more snow and frost are on the way.
“And he looked up and said, ‘I see men like trees, walking.’”
Mark 8:24
As we grow in Christ, may God continue to trim our branches so we can bear tomorrow’s load.
