Surrounded by ancient oak trees, our home rises from the verdant Florida foilage. From first moment awake till eyes close at night ... through every room and window, Trees surround.
Most resplendent from the front porch, the statuesque sprawl of oaks dominates the view. Time and time again, I gaze upon their stately, seemingly immutable presence and am moved to eucharisteo --- the state of giving thanks. God Knows me. He Knows me so intimately that, in the midst of crisis-imposed chaos, He plopped us right smack down in the middle of coastal-central Florida, where oak Trees rise and Spanish Moss drapes and sunlight slants through. He Knows that Big Trees, tall and imposing, somehow, somewhere deep in me, remind me of who I am, Who He is, and how much He Loves.
His delight is in the Law of the LORD and on his Law, he meditates day and night. He is like a Tree planted by streams of water which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does will prosper. --- Psalm 1:2-3
They will be called "oaks of righteousness", a planting of the LORD for the display of His Splendour. ---Isaiah 61:3
... amen...
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair/
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
--- Joyce Kilmer
