The Offering Tree

The Offering Tree

I understand your desire to bend

in an open offering of self--

Transparent in ache and yearning,

willing to let go

into the becoming colors that hint

at the infinite, almost, not quite,

stars remaining, new day rising,

glorious fullness and subtlety of being

that is God, that is God,

that is God.

c. MperiodPress

 

 

 

I love this tree.

I watch her every morning as the night gently wakes the day and the two exchange news of dreams and imaginings, places traveled and what has been witnessed by the great lights that guide their journeys. I watch her with longing and understanding, admiration and care. I have come to think of it as The Offering Tree. Her branches bare and spread wide to wind, bird, and snow alike...she is vulnerable yet well rooted. She has sustained much in her life and is subject to the changes of season, rainfall, and soil composition...

I watch the tree and how she changes over time and against the back drop of a stunning assortment of colors. I like looking through the lace of her branches and noting the crisp contrast between her living solidity and the diaphanous wonder of nature's shifting palette.

On some mornings, while tucked in the rocking chair and hand hugging a wake-up mugful of coffee, I think I can understand her... Or, if not understand, I can at least imagine more easily...

And what I imagine is what I myself desire...to be in the horizon where these colors live first, to offer my being with transparent aching to the One who is Artist and Writer, Word and Wisdom, Compassion and Justice and Mercy... To be so open that giving and receiving meet and there is a loosening, an allowing, an expansiveness to accommodate all that I am and all that Is... To be so open that nothing remains save the essential truth that God is all in all.