Barren sustenance

Friday of the Third Week of Advent

Behold God is my helper;
It is the Lord who sustains my life.
Psalm 54:3

It is the barren trees that arrest my attention. Throughout the day, I have been drawn to bare limbs tracing paths across the sky, ice-covered twigs woven into intricate designs, shadows of branches casting patterns on a window shade.

Sometimes my heart feels bare, like naked winter branches. This is not sadness, but rather lack. Lack of inspiration, lack of engagement, lack of closeness to God. As if my heart is standing far off choosing not to get involved with the now. Even as I sit in prayer, I wonder if I can just slide by on the surface of the day, without trying too hard or going too deep. Without asking the question honestly of what God is calling me to do or be or see or ask. Or tell.

The contemplation of the bare branches is enough. Enough to remind me that their very stature is sustained by life deep within them, that what seems dead will bear fruit in due season, that even out of stumps new growth may come. Enough to remind me that regardless of my perspective, my life is rooted in the Word which spoke the world into being and is speaking still, calling me to the wonder of this season and a manger that will not remain empty.

Image by Mabel Amber, still incognito... from Pixabay