not a clue, as usual

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The Old Apple Tree


It was fear that held spring back,

fear that winter would return.

P1010336The old apple tree waited patientlyP1010350

for the cold wind to give way

to the softer breezes of spring.

At first a few shy blossoms opened

then a few more.

Soon the old tree looked young and vibrant,

beautifully draped in pink and white petals

which would fall silently to the ground.

For a time the tree looked bare,

stripped back to rough bark.

Only then will the fruit begin to growP1010367

fear steps in and the Gardener steps up.

There is fear in opening up and making myself so vulnerable.

Yet, I jump into the Everlasting Arms of springtime breezes.

P1010369I watch little bits of myself flutter away,

the outer useless bits that I thought I needed.

and now richer fruits and deeper roots can grow.

Fear fades and fruit grows

on the old apple tree.

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.”

John 15:1,2P1010375


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Peering thru a window


Peering thru a window

Into the center of the old forsythia

That sits just outside the dining room window

I see life that struggles to lift itself out of the grays of winter

Blooms that hope the sun finds them in the tangle of its branches

I lift prayers up to God

Through the tangles of my life

Fragile flowers tentatively open

With praise for the sun

With love for the Son

Even though they’ve been hiding for so long.