It's nearly 7 but still dark in the grove. I've spent the night here, not wanting to leave the mighty trees just yet. The north country is silent this winter morning as a series of cold fronts line up offshore. It's the calm before the storm, with just a patter of rain on the car roof.
I took a walk this morning, laughing when I shined my headlamp up the trunks of the gnarly behemoths. I've come to hear the redwoods speak to me of silence and stillness. They've been patient and still for thousands of years.
Why did God create redwoods? Lord only knows. Their dignity and calm is a contrast to my habitual impatience. I aspire to be like the redwoods, waiting, weathering all storms with patience and gratitude. The redwoods speak of a life with God, with roots anchored securely into the rich soil of his infinite love.
Love and blessings,
Look at Behemoth, which I made along with you and which feeds on grass like an ox. What strength it has in its loins, what power in the muscles of its belly! Its tail sways like a cedar; the sinews of its thighs are close-knit. Its bones are tubes of bronze, its limbs like rods of iron. It ranks first among the works of God, yet its Maker can approach it with his sword. Job 40: 15-24
Photo: (Coastal redwoods near Orick, CA.)