My grandmother loved bare trees. She loved seeing all the branches in their interesting patterns. So do I. I love the bud of green leaves in the spring, the beautiful trees all full of leaves in summer and the amazing colors in the fall. But there is something about a bare tree in the winter. Especially if it is surrounded by and covered with snow. The starkness of the dark limbs against a blanket of white catches me every time. I could just stop and stare. And I usually do.
Today as I walked in the snow-covered woods, among all the beautiful bare trees a new thought hit me. Once all the leaves are gone, we can see what the tree REALLY looks like. What it’s made of. How strong it is.
Just like us. When earthly things we treasure are stripped away, we can see what a person is really made of. How strong they are. The curves and bends their lives have taken and how much they have grown anyway. There’s no more hiding. Our truest, simplest selves are shown to all. I pray that when that happens, the world will see a woman who follows after God with her whole heart.
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