Grace In the Midst

It was late fall in southern Ontario at a wonderful retreat area called Crieff Hills. Walking along a path one misty cool morning with my friends, we came upon various nature scenes which called us to comment upon. One thing in particular that morning caught my eye and whispered to my heart. Stop; take note; there is a lesson for you to learn here. What was it? Slowly the lesson unfolded before me. Not all at once; bit by bit; one step at a time along the path. Let it settle and meld around you; become part of you.

Stark spindly bushes prolific with tiny juicy purple berries lined the path we were on. No leaves on the bushes, just branches filled with deep purple berries. From his perch on these bushes, a little bird cocked his head at me in a most jaunty way. As I drew near, half an arms length away, he was not perturbed, just plunged his perky little beak into the luscious purple berry on the branch.

I stilled and thought of that small tree. It looked unclothed, no leaves, stark against the evergreens. At a time when most fruit had fallen or been harvested, these branches held onto their abundance, offering it up to these perky little creatures full of anticipation, and joy in the receiving.

Focus again. A stark branch. The dressing and glory of leaves had been stripped away. But still there is abundance and beauty here. Sustenance for body and soul. I thought of being sifted as wheat- chaff from the grain, stripped of all that is not necessary but for sustenance and proliferation. Here is a frugal beauty that breaks the tree to its essence.

And the story of the fruitless fig tree comes to mind. It served a purpose as shelter. The beauty was there, but not the bounty so the tree was cursed.

At times I feel like that cursed tree. Held together by all the trappings and baubles of life, yet a sense of barrenness, angst, bleakness, pervades my life. 

Walking along I look again and I see a wooden cross. A cross of grace, I think, rising out of the rocks. And superimposed upon it is a little leafless scraggly tree, full of abundance, sustenance and life.  Startled, a question arises. Which tree am I?

By the grace of God, the meaningless baubles are being stripped away and the beauty and bounty of fruit, the essence of life, my life in Christ, is left behind.

Grace in the midst.

Gloria Taliotis

October 21 2006