The tree is weathered, worn, aged, and her branches have long forgotten the color of green. Some would say she is dead. I denied their suggestions to cut her down. Leaving for work this morning, her trunks cradled the moon. Somehow the image mirrored both my body and my heart. Hope and weathering. Dormancy dignified. Earned aging and wisdom. The day flowed with the image. And with the image the last lines of the morning prayer read:
Within the mysterious heart of deep winter, the seed of everlasting life is preparing to break through the frozen mantle that covers our hearts, radiating healing and hope where we had witnessed only desolation. Holy [Mother] Mary, we are ready to be amazed.~ Mirabai Starr in William Hart McNichols “Mother of God Similar to Fire”The whisper came with a giggle…. ‘Choose the right mirror to see your reflection and be ready to be amazed.’
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