Reach and Touch

The drive from central Ohio to Philadelphia is a parade through the halls of ancient forests. These royal assemblies have been a home to native americans before any european settlement appeared. The goodness of their stature, shelter and sheer might is  sacred today as it was in Eden. The writers Lewis and Tolkien took a stroll on an english campus, graced with gigantic Oaks that had seen the likes of Hadrian and whose expansive branches overshadowed a half acre of ground beneath each of them. Lewis stopped in admiring wonder of the trees, looked at Tolkien and said, "And they call it a tree."

There is a change in the trees today, spring dawns and sweetens the air with scent and color. (I noticed even the snow liberated soil has a new scent in spring). The subtle colors of purple, pink and red at the tops of  trees are bundles of infant leaves springing out to meet the sky, God, light and freedom.

Impossible and invisible, on the tip of a branch, has become possible and visible. What was not, is, and radiates beauty and truth; a cycle of life; new birth and hope. Blossoming trees, reach and touch heaven en mass and as one. It's natures upward dance of worship spoken in ancient writings of Isaiah as "trees of the fields clapping their hands!" How like my arms and the tips of my fingers are these extended boughs  reaching once again, heavenward with all their might? They reach and touch; I can reach and touch heaven, with them, in God's sacred rhythm of new life and divine beginnings. Lord, thank you for the ancient halls of trees, mentors on earth and someday, Heaven!