My Life Without . . .

 The rest of the world has gone all technological on me, but being part of the old school, I still use books. And one of my tools is an old fashioned dictionary. It has always been invaluable and a solid source of information, until this week. This week I discovered that my nice, new(ish) Webster’s New College dictionary is lacking. Lacking the E’s and F’s to be exact. It is missing 64 pages. No, they weren’t cut out, it was printed that way.

What would life be like without any E’s or F’s? There would be no elephants, no emus, echidnas or eagles. Imagine life without those magnificent beasts. Or eels. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Without a ewe there would be no lambs.

I could no longer strive for excellence or elegance. Life would be flat without elevation. I would no longer wax eloquent. I could not embrace my loved ones. I am sure there would be no hard feelings if we dispensed with the enema. My enthusiasm would be gone. How sad. I couldn’t run errands anymore. There would be nothing essential in my life. But, then again, I would never again be excluded from things either. And I won’t expire. I can’t be extraordinary or exquisite, and life with no extravagance or exuberance would be boring. Shoot, I wouldn’t even have an eye to see with.

Life with no F’s would be even worse. I could no longer save face, have a face lift, do an about face or face down my enemy. I would be a blank slate. There would be no facts in this world. I would have no faith, I would not be faithful . . . but then again I wouldn’t be faithless either. And I could never fail! What a concept! This creaky old body would never fall back or fall behind or fall by the wayside. Sadly, I would have no fantasies. But there would be no fear. I wouldn’t be female. What would I be? Oh . . . there would be no felines. Life without cats…..never! No fireworks, fireplaces, flannel or fountains. I wonder what it would be like to never be flabby again. Or have to worry about flatulence. That would be a much desired relief. There would be no room for flippant, fluent or foolish remarks. I couldn't dance---no feet. Oh . . . no food. I might starve to death or at least lose a few pounds. I would never forget anything . . . to a lot of people’s chagrin. I could never forgive or be forgiven. What a sad thought. I wouldn’t have to worry about fornicating . . . heaven forbid. I would never be full, or empty for that matter. There would be no fruit or flowers to enrich my life. There would be no FUN!

I will never be without these things just because someone left them out of the dictionary. But it makes one think of all the things that are taken for granted each day, each moment. Would I want them removed from my life, or should I take the good with the bad? Would I want to lose fear at the expense of fun? God has balanced this world, fine tuned it into existence; to be without pain or joy would leave a place unfulfilled in life. Take a look at your dictionary. How much you are missing?

Just Writin’ on the River Road

 

I saw it from the corner of my eye. Noooooooo . . . not yet! It can’t be, I’m not ready. But ready or not, life will proceed as planned. Tomorrow it will be not one, but a handful, then they will shower down upon me filling the air with whirling color. Even though I am not ready, autumn is here.

It begins with that tiny swelling on the side of a branch. If the weather warms and the sun showers it with golden rays, it soon evolves into a tightly wrapped bud. Not much to look at but it holds the promise of a new beginning; of life returning to that tree which has appeared lifeless for so many long, cold months. Things are changing; the weather is warming, the suns rays stronger, the days are getting longer and the little bud is encouraged. Slowly but surely, it draws up sap from deep within the roots and fills its tiny little form with nourishment. Given all the right conditions, it will open to reveal a small green shoot or perhaps a blossom. Some even furnish fuzzy little fur coats that delight us. Then, what has taken so long explodes into a dazzling array of tender leaves, unbelievable fragrances and soft petals dancing in the breeze. It blinds us in its glory, it stuns us with its versatility, it encompasses us in its beauty. Spring has arrived!

From there the trees develop a maturity, the leaves become large and heavy. They shield us from the summer sun, some will begin to produce fruit. Still lovely and appreciated, they have settled into a state of contentment for the summer. They sway in the breeze, rustle out tunes, even test their stamina in the course of a storm. They are made for swings and tree houses, providing a canopy that lays out intricate shadows on the ground below. These trees are life at its best. They are relaxed, protective, eager to share their gifts of shelter and shade.

Then silently but suddenly, the weather turns; the days become shorter with crisp mornings and cold nights. The trees prepare for their final performance. Slowly they quit drawing up that life-giving food from their roots and their color begins to change. They are dying. But even in that process they harmonize with melodies of scarlet, gold, maroon and an infinite shades of yellow. Their grace has now emerged; they have given their all and now willingly nod off to sleep. The wind whips the trees and their precious leaves scatter creating a kaleidoscope of color. As a last hooray, they cover the ground with a patchwork blanket to insulate against the cold and snow. But before they go, they jump and tumble at our feet as we walk, they dance in whirlwinds, and provide immense joy to children tumbling in a fresh raked pile of color. They bring joy even in their death.

The tree retreats into a deep slumber. It draws nourishment up in its roots to sustain life through the long winter months. It stands there, stark and naked, with no glorious crown to surround it. It’s nothing but a dark and dreary spot on the landscape. For the most part it goes unnoticed by everything around it. Death. Or it seems that way. But God is filling it with a desire to wait, wait until the time is right, and then He will urge it to re-enter the living world. And thus the cycle begins again.

Is it so different for people? We begin as tiny buds of life, tender and helpless. With the right amount of love and care we grow into strong, young saplings. From there we bloom into adulthood. Some may bear fruit that can be passed on to others, some bear seeds to feed the masses, most provide comfort and shelter to those around them. And then comes that season that is most beautiful and yet painful. As we begin to shed our leaves, to feel our life ebbing away, we learn grace and we rely on mercy. Our time is coming to provide for the next generation. Not material goods, but wisdom, knowledge, joy, grace, patience. The cycle of life. Winter is not our time of death . . . it is our time to return to our creator, to live again in His eternal kingdom. Our life begins anew for all time.

Just Writin’ on the River Road